Harry Potter and the Dark Mark
by Venus2
Summary: In Harry’s 6th year, the the dark movement is on the rise with a streak of sensless murders. Harry’s quest to stop the terror leads to the revelation of ancient secrets, re-visiting the past , and some old scores are *finally* settled.
1. Default Chapter

Hello everyone!  
  
This is the sequel to my first Harry Potter fanfic: Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor. I admit I wasn't planning to write a sequel at first, but since it seems that for some crazy reason you people wanted one, I figured what the heck! This picks up only about a month after Heir of Gryffindor ended, so if you've read the first, you won't miss anything. If you haven't read Heir of Gryffindor, well, I've tried to re-cap things to the best of my ability through the course of this story. Going in you should probably know that there was a major character change Dudley Dursely, and also that a major original character were both introduced in Heir of Gryffindor, so don't get worried if you read something that doesn't sound familiar to you-- it will all be explained in the story.  
  
I just wanted to also send out an enormous thank-you to my fantastic, absolute doll of a beta-reader James (love ya, hon) and also thanks to the Queen of the English Language, Lishan. Okay, enough with the boring stuff. On with the show, and I really hope that you enjoy yourselves! (It's been a blast writing it!)  
  
**disclaimer** I own nothing even remotely related to the Harry Potter Franchise. Those lucky bastards are Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Brothers pictures and of course, the brilliant JK Rowling herself.  
  
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Chapter One: The Dark Mark  
  
On the twenty-second of June, at precisely 19:00 hours Greenwich Meantime, Vernon P. Dursley of number four Privet Drive had a heart attack. Well. . . nearly. He was starting on his second helping of mash and happily flipping through the Evening Standard, the evening drifting along perfectly peacefully, when it happened.  
  
The kitchen window had been left open ajar, letting in the lovely light evening breeze, when suddenly a loud whoosh of wind burst through it, and with it a large, squatty, spotty, wild-eyed owl. It's huge wings fluttered furiously about Uncle Vernon, the room filling with its' ear piercing squawk which were soon coupled with the deep, heaving wheezes of a beet-red faced Vernon Dursley.  
  
"POTTER! GET-THAT-BLOODY-BARNYARD-BEAST AWAY FROM ME!"  
  
Harry Potter cleared his throat, trying to fight off an impending laughing fit, and snatched the letter from the hyperactive owl, which happened to belong to his best friend. "Thanks Pigwidgeon-- best get going, all right?"  
  
Pigwidgeon kept his squawking and circled Harry's head a couple times, before returning to Vernon for a few last flaps and then soaring out of the kitchen window once more.  
  
Vernon's mouth was agape, Aunt Petunia's gaunt face looked even more emaciated than before, both staring at Harry with blood in their eyes. Harry said nothing and merely concerned himself with opening the letter.  
  
"Who's it from, mate?"  
  
The voice belonged to Dudley Dursley. Yes, the Dudley Dursley who had spent fourteen years of his life making life a living hell for Harry. That is, up until the previous year when the boy had done quite a bit of changing.  
  
"Both of us, actually. Ron is inviting us to spend a fortnight with him and his family in Ireland!"  
  
"Wicked," said Dudley, his blue eyes widening at the thought of a holiday. "That'll be a blast! What do you say Dad? Can I?"  
  
Of course, Harry and Dudley both knew quite well what the response would be.  
  
Vernon's face went from beet to fire engine red. He opened his mouth to scream at the boy, but instead put his hand to his heart, heaving and gasping. His gaunt wife Petunia shrieked and ran to the telephone to dial the paramedics, but Vernon soon calmed down, his breathing regulated and his face returned to its normal color (which was actually just a tad lighter than fire engine red anyway).  
  
Dudley looked only mildly concerned at the scene, and when things settled down a bit, he shrugged his shoulders. "So then . . . that's a yes, right?"  
  
Harry recoiled in his chair at the dinner table, absolutely certain that his Uncle Vernon would reach across the table and strangle him with a single massive, porky hand.  
  
And this he did.  
  
"Y-you," came the strained voice of a man consumed in anger, "Y-you've done this! You've torn apart our home! You've turned our own son against us!"  
  
Dudley sniggered. "Really, Dad. You're out of order! I mean, how can you say--"  
  
"See how he defies us?" Vernon grabbed hold of Harry's shirt collar and lifted him off his chair, pushing his enormous face against Harry's. "You've bewitched him! Give us our son back!"  
  
"Dad! Stop!" Dudley heaved Harry away from his father's grip.  
  
Harry stumbled and backed away to the far end of the kitchen, glaring at his uncle. This made the fifth such accusation within the past two weeks, and Harry had finally had enough. "No one has Dudley bewitched, all right? How many times do we have to go through this--"  
  
"Don't you dare raise your voice to your Uncle," said Petunia-- her voice could wake the dead, there was no doubt. "The older you get, the more deplorable your behavior--"  
  
Dudley stood up at this. "If you call standing up for yourself bad behavior, then you're even more of a flipping psychopath than I thought!"  
  
Harry looked at his cousin in a quiet sort of awe: it had nearly been one year since the two had started to forge their friendship, but Dudley's unprecedented change of heart still amazed Harry.  
  
"Now the both of you are going to listen to me," said Dudley, his blue eyes furious. "The Weasleys invited Harry and Me to spend a fortnight in Ireland, and I'm bloody well going!"  
  
Vernon managed to choke out the scathing words "I forbid you."  
  
"You what?"  
  
"You heard! Not while you live under this roof--"  
  
"Oh come off it. What, you're going to turn me out? I'm a minor! Tell you what: when I turn eighteen, I'll do us both a favor and ship on out, all right?" He stood up, "Come on, Harry. Let's go."  
  
Harry Potter wasn't accustomed to leaving the kitchen without first clearing away the table and washing the dishes. He stood up hesitantly, giving Dudley a look that screamed 'are you sure this is a good idea?'  
  
Uncle Vernon slammed his fist on the table. "Damn you, boy! Your mother and I will not have those freaky Weedley's in our home again!"  
  
"It's Weasley's--"  
  
"I don't care what it is! They'll not step one foot in this home!"  
  
"Then we'll wait for them outside. Come on, Harry."  
  
Harry followed his cousin upstairs-- someone who was not only a shadow of himself in personality but in appearance as well. Aside from the incredible change in Dudley's weight from last year, he'd done a bit of growing and was no longer the short one of the family. In fact, it was likely he would reach up with Harry up by summer's end. Harry had gone through a growth spurt the year before (he'd passed up the girls at school, finally!) and his hopes were high at one day actually being tall like Ron! But those hopes were now quite low as he hadn't done anymore real growing and he resigned himself once more to being content with being the "little guy."  
  
To Harry's surprise, the Dursleys didn't kill him or Dudley that night. Or the next night, for that matter. Actually, the entire week prior to the Weasley's scheduled arrival, there were no further blow-ups (odd for Privet Drive, to be sure!). Of course, that was due to the fact that not a word was spoken between Mr. and Mrs. Dursley and Dudley and Harry.  
  
At night, after Dudley had finally left his room after their usual habit of chatting away for positively hours, Harry opened his desk drawer and pulled out his well used quill and ink bottle, and took a seat at his desk beneath the bright moonlight. He held his quill pensively, deciding to whom he should write to first . . . but there really wasn't a question in the matter. For Harry Potter, there was really only one person whom he wrote to religiously-even moreso than Sirius Black. And that was a girl by the name of Sophie Banbury.  
  
Dear Sophie . . .  
  
Harry's pen still trembled slightly when he wrote her name on paper. She'd been Harry's neighbor last year, and she was the main reason for Dudley's unfathomable transformation: he'd fallen head over heels in love with her. (It reached the point where when Sophie made an offhand comment that her favorite dog was the terrier, Dudley felt it necessary to take one as a pet. Petunia hadn't been thrilled.)  
  
The difficult thing was, that Dudley wasn't the only person at 4 Privet Drive to have fallen for the girl. For the past month (all right: five weeks, three days and seventeen hours) Harry had not been able to think of anyone else. Nor had he wanted to think of anyone else. She'd been his friend, first and foremost, and over the past year he'd found that he was able to tell her anything. He could talk to her more freely than anyone else-yes, even Sirius. Because whenever he was around Sophie he didn't feel awkward, or strange, or famous or anything else-he felt like just Harry.  
  
Dudley didn't know any of this (and thankfully so, nor was he aware of the fact that Sophie felt the same way towards Harry.  
  
But Harry put that out of his head for the moment, and focused on the words he was writing. Hedwig was only to proud to take the finished letter from Harry's hand and, nibbling his fingertips affectionately, she gracefully flew out of the window into the horizon and Harry wished upon wish that he could go with her.  
  
The morning of their departure was a deliciously warm one, the sky cloudless and brilliant blue. Harry and Dudley brought their suitcases downstairs, bade Vernon and Petunia a quick, unconcerned 'farewell' and waited outside, suitcases in hand, to wait for the Weasleys. Harry could feel Petunia staring down at him from behind her lace curtains, probably bracing herself for the Weasleys' always-conspicuous arrival.  
  
Thankfully, the Weasleys were learning! Arthur had acquired yet another Muggle car (this time a brown, mid 1970s model clunker) and it turned onto Privet Drive with far less commotion than their usual arrivals. (aside from the very noisy, squeaking brakes)  
  
Ron was the first out of the car, heartily greeting Harry.  
  
"All right there, Harry?"  
  
"Brilliant, now that you're here." He blinked. "Ron? You've. . . "  
  
"Cut my hair, yes. Hermione likes it this way. Too short, do you think? Ginny reckons it's naff."  
  
Harry laughed. "Well I like it. And where is Ginny anyway?" asked Harry, peering into the car.  
  
"Ah, well, she's at home-- a bit, ah, under the weather these days. She got into a . . . disagreement last week with the witch down the road. She accused Ginny of dumping all of our garden gnomes into her back garden and, well, let's just say the end result of the argument wasn't pretty. They don't call her Margaret the Miffed for nothing --"  
  
"Ohhh," said Harry. "Bad temper, eh?"  
  
"Ghastly. And poor Ginny got the receiving end of it." Ron was apparently doing all he could to not break into laughter. "She made me swear I wouldn't tell you what happened to her, but you can imagine. It must be bad if she'd give up an opportunity to spend two weeks holiday with you."  
  
Harry ignored that and threw his case into the boot. Dudley followed suit.  
  
Arthur heaved the boot closed and rubbed his hands. "I'd simply love to have a chat with your Mum and Dad, Dudley. They are in, aren't they?"  
  
Dudley laughed nervously. "Yes. . . but now really isn't a good time."  
  
"Oh, but I want to assure them you'll be perfectly safe on the holiday and-- "  
  
"They know, they know. We're wasting time, aren't we, Mr. Weasley?"  
  
Arthur got the hint and happily changed the subject as they all filed into the car.  
  
* *  
  
Ron was positively bored out of his mind. He rested his head against the window, staring out at the passing scenery as though he were in a trance. "Still can't bloody understand why we couldn't just use the Floo powder! We'd have been there days ago. . ."  
  
"Enough of that whining, Ronald Weasley!" Molly craned her neck to give him the evil eye. "We've told you a million times that Dudley cannot travel with floo powder and we are not separating, understand? Besides, Harry's home is no longer permitted in the network."  
  
This was news to Harry. "Oh?"  
  
Molly was quiet for a moment too long-- betraying the fact that she probably hadn't meant to say that. "Oh. . . yes, Harry. The ministry doesn't allow it anymore, given what happened last year."  
  
"Oh. Right," said Harry quietly, remembering it all too well. It had been the floo network that had allowed Death Eater Delphine Lestrange's treacherous plot to take place-- the plot that led to the death of Sophie's Mum (a witch at the Ministry of magic, and the twin sister of Delphine Lestrange) and it nearly cost Harry his life as well as Ron and Sophie's.  
  
"Besides," said Arthur, gleefully drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, "don't you find this fascinating? Real-life Muggle travel!"  
  
Ron grunted. "No offense, Dudley, but at the rate you Muggles travel, it's a wonder that you can get anywhere on time at all. Our travel is pretty much instantaneous, really, and somehow we still always manage to run late."  
  
Harry nudged Dudley's arm and leaned over. "Don't tell Ron, but that's actually just a Weasley problem." he whispered.  
  
"Arthur," said Molly, "Muggle cars play music, don't they? Maybe a little background music will brighten Ron's disagreeable disposition."  
  
"I'm not being disagreeable--"  
  
"Capital idea, Molly dear. Dudley, my boy, once this wireless sound projector is turned to the on position. . . how is it that I get the music I wish from it? No special words to recite, I expect?"  
  
"The radio? See that round knob on the right? Turn it slowly-- that gives you different, er, what we call "stations," which all play a different sort of music. You just search until you find the one you like best . . ." he winked at Harry. "Er . . . I personally suggest 104.1 FM."  
  
"One-oh-four-point-one," Arthur repeated, "Oh, confound-it! Where is the point-- oh, the red dial, of course, yes--"  
  
"Arthur! Watch the road!"  
  
"I am, darling, I am. Oh, you take a look at this contraption, I can't make heads or tails of it."  
  
Molly Weasley pushed her husband's hand out of the way and promptly found the station.  
  
She smiled triumphantly. "See? Simple!"  
  
Harry started to giggle. Dudley had chosen a station that specialized in playing polka music-- something that was sure to drive Ron stark raving mad!  
  
"What the bloody hell is this?" he shouted, staring menacingly at Dudley. "What are you trying to do, kill me?"  
  
Harry was now laughing out loud. "Oh go on, Dudley, change it before Ron has another fit."  
  
Ron folded his arms. "You're sounding like Hermione."  
  
"Lovely girl, that Hermione," said Arthur jovially. "Still dunno why you didn't ask her to come with, Ron. Not a very considerate beaux--"  
  
"I told you already. Parvati and Padma Patil invited her and a few other Gryffindor girls to go on holiday with their family in Greece." He paused irritably. "Though I doubt they drove all the way!"  
  
* *  
  
It was late afternoon by the time the Weasleys drove down a particularly steep hill towards a small seaside inn. Harry, Ron and Dudley nearly fell out of the backseat. Harry's knees felt weak and about ready to give out beneath his weight. Dudley held onto Ron for support.  
  
"Really, boys, must you make such a fuss?" Molly shook her head and pulled the cases out of the boot. "Come along and help with the luggage."  
  
They walked into a half-timbered inn with very low ceilings and doorways- even Dudley had to duck through a couple doorframes. The Inn was a Muggle- run establishment, the landlords being an old married couple with an evaluating stare. They led the group up the narrow, winding wood staircase to their rooms.  
  
Harry, Ron and Dudley's room was quite tiny, but loaded with charm. The windows looked out over the pebbled drive and out to the sea stretched on into an infinite green mist. The soothing, gentle rhythm of the crashing surf in the distance was the only sound as the travelers stared out the window, positively entranced.  
  
"Cor," said Dudley, "this is beautiful. Went to Majorca last summer and it was beautiful too, but, I dunno, it was really more city than anything else, you know? This is like it's never been touched."  
  
It was enough to even yank Ron out of his mood! After a quiet, lazy afternoon, the boys trekked downstairs to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley relaxing in the foyer. Ron started in with the not-so-subtle hints to his mother and father about getting out and into the nearby village, Heatherwood Hollow.  
  
Molly had rather been looking forward to a cozy evening alongside the fire, but upon seeing the boys' hopeful smiles, she heaved herself out of the chair and threw on her shawl and hat.  
  
"Come along Arthur," she said in her singsong voice. Mr. Weasley responded with an unenthusiastic grunt and ushered the boys outside. Dudley made a start for the car, only to have Arthur stop him abruptly.  
  
"No, my boy, the village isn't far. Let's all have a nice evening stroll."  
  
There were no complaints, since the walk was a gorgeous stretch of road along cliffs, which dropped sharply into the crashing waves below. The sun was vast in the distance, still claiming the sky as its own thanks to the late summer daylight hours. The longer they kept on their journey, however, the lower it edged towards the waters, turning them from green to pink, then purple, then finally to deep blue. By the time the company reached the village, night had fallen.  
  
Heatherwood Hollow was a quaint village with one High Street ('Heatherwood High,' the locals called it) crammed with shops. Tall torches hung in midair up and down the pavement, lighting up the street impressively well for the mid evening strollers. And indeed, the warm temperatures ensured that the streets were teeming with robe-clad, hat sporting patrons.  
  
Molly took a deep breath, her face red from the brisk walk and the flickering red and orange from the torches seemed to exaggerate the flush to her cheeks.. "Ahhh-- smell that, lads? Heatherwood Bakeries. Nothing like it in the world-- Muggle or wizarding. Arthur dearest, we will be picking up a tart or two won't we?"  
  
"Of course Molly dear, of course, as soon as I take a quick peek inside Marvingtons--"  
  
Molly grabbed his arm and yanked him most forcefully in the other direction. "After the bakers, Arthur darling."  
  
Arthur tripped over his feet and followed his wife begrudgingly towards the bakers at the far end of the High street, leaving the three boys alone on the crowded pavement.  
  
Ron shook his head. "Won't be seeing them again any time soon. They're worse than kids sometimes! Come on, I'll show you two about the place. Oh! Dudley, you've got to see Busby's! See, at Hogwarts, we get to go to this village called Hogsmeade and they've got this wicked joke shop called Zonkos. And aside from Zonkos', this is one of the best joke shops in all of Britain."  
  
Harry wagged his finger. "Ah tsk, tsk, Ron. Lest we forget Weasleys Wizard Wheezes?"  
  
"Notice that I said one of the best joke shops. Not the best joke shop. We all know that coveted title belongs to the Wheezes. But come on, Dudley, have a look!"  
  
Harry followed closely as Ron ushered Dudley inside the inviting shop. The lighting was a warm orange-- very homey. They examined the aisles of outlandish offerings, Dudley laughing and pointing in awe at everything he saw. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit like a father watching his son take his first steps: Dudley was asking questions, genuinely interested in how the different pranks worked, waiting patiently as Harry and Ron explained them all.  
  
"Oh, I like this," said Dudley, holding a round glass ball that started to glow red.  
  
Harry laughed. "Oh dear, I haven't seen one of those in years. It's called a Remember-All, and whenever it turns red like that, it means that you have forgotten something."  
  
"But. . . it doesn't tell you what you've forgotten?"  
  
"Well, no--"  
  
"Then what bloody use is it?"  
  
Harry blinked. "Point well made, Dudley.  
  
"Here we are Dudley," said Ron triumphantly, pouring a handful of small, multi-colored beans from a wicker basket into a small drawstring bag.  
  
"Oh no," Dudley said, quickly backing away, "those aren't those nasty buggers that swell up your tongue, are they?"  
  
Harry nearly fell into stitches! "No! These are Every-Flavored-Beans! Although. . ." he was trying hard to suppress his giggles, "I completely forgot about that, Dudley! I'll never forget the look on your Mum's face--"  
  
"I'll never forget the look on his face," laughed Ron.  
  
"Yes, yes, let's all have a great laugh at Dudley."  
  
"Ah, but that wasn't you, mate," said Ron. "That was your evil twin brother, remember?"  
  
"Yeah," said Dudley, pouting, "but it still hurt like hell, I'm tellin' ya."  
  
"Well," said Ron, "I promise, these will not swell up your tongue. Though a couple of 'em might make you want to run to the toilet, if you know what I mean."  
  
"I'm guessing that "every flavor" is really every flavor?"  
  
"You name it, it's there. Watermelon, lemon drop, grass, coffee, dirt, popcorn, sardines, vomit--"  
  
Dudley blanched. "Sounds lovely." He peered at the sign. "50 sickles-- how much is that in Muggle money, Harry?"  
  
"Er. . . I dunno, actually."  
  
"I've only brought normal money! I mean-- well, it's not yours."  
  
"Not to worry, Dudley," said Harry. He took the bag and they walked towards the check-out counter.  
  
A young girl with long blonde hair, not more than eleven at most, seemed to appear out of nowhere and was at once at Harry's side, taking hold of his arm.  
  
"Oh my--" Her brown eyes scanned his forehead eagerly, "you're Harry Potter aren't you!"  
  
Harry forced a smile even through he really felt like pushing this newcomer away. Of course he didn't have to reply to that question.  
  
"Oh I am such a big fan of yours! Do you know that I keep every newspaper article of you tucked away in a scrapbook? I just can't believe that I'm actually meeting you! OH, here, can you please sign this for me!"  
  
She dug into a satchel and pulled out a quill and . . . to Harry's horror, produced a photograph of him as well. He actually remembered taking the photo-it had been just after the champions of the Triwizard Tournament had been announced. He stood next to Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour-- his own photographic self edging his way towards the edge of the photograph. And this girl carried pictures of him around in her satchel?  
  
Scary.  
  
Harry wanted to run out of the shop, but the girl was forcing the quill into his hand. "Make it out to Zelda Zarate. I'm going to start on at Hogwarts this year too! What House are you in? I hope I'll be sorted into your house!"  
  
Ron, who'd been watching the entire scene with Dudley, had to say something. "Nah. You're a Hufflepuff if I've ever met one."  
  
Harry quickly scribbled his name, thrust the picture back at blushing girl. "Thanks, er, have a good night Zelda. See ya." In other words: okay, get going now.  
  
She was grinning like a Cheshire cat and stared lovingly at the autograph as she hurried out of the shop.  
  
"What the hell was all that about?" Dudley's mouth was agape in surprise.  
  
Ron was rather amused by it all-- especially by Harry's visible discomfort. "Oh, didn't Harry tell you, Dudley? He's a regular celebrity!"  
  
"Shut up, Ron--"  
  
"Well, it's true! Dudley should know just who his cousin is! You see Dudley, it's quite normal for things like that to happen with Harry. Gets it all the time, although he's too noble to admit it. Everyone in our world has grown up knowing the story about Harry and the Dark Lord-- Mum and Dad used to even recite it to us kids as a bedtime story. So anything that Harry does pretty much always makes headline news."  
  
"Knock it off, Ron."  
  
Ron laughed, "all right, mate. All right." He put his arm around Harry's shoulder. "But it is the truth."  
  
Dudley shook his head in disbelief as they stood at the checkout counter. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about all this, Harry!"  
  
"There was nothing to tell. Now where is the clerk--"  
  
A suspicious-looking female ghost appeared at that moment: a funny looking thing with her hair pulled back into a messy bun. She looked frustrated at having to attend to them.  
  
"Will that be all?" came a most accusatory voice, as she glanced at the single item in annoyance.  
  
"Y-yes, thanks," said Harry in a hopefully cheery tone, pulling the money out of his pocket. He handed the money to the ghoul, who stared back at him, her anger growing.  
  
"Please put the money on the scale, sir."  
  
Harry blinked and noticed the scale next to the register. The register, upon closer examination, was covered in cobwebs and hadn't been used in years. The scales were shiny and well used, a sign next to it reading "Please Place Exact Change Here."  
  
Dudley was obviously enthralled with it all. "Oh!" he cried, "Right, of course! You have to pay that way because you can't very well hold the change, right?"  
  
The ghost looked positively murderous. She floated through the counter towards Dudley, her voice straining to keep its cool. "It-would-quite- surprise-you-sir-what-ghosts-can-do. . ."  
  
Harry flipped the coins onto the scale, grabbed the beans and took Dudley in his other arm.  
  
"Right, then, thanks so much. We'll be on our way."  
  
Ron and Harry pulled Dudley out of the store and back out onto busy High Street.  
  
"Not the friendliest thing was she?" said Dudley, digging into the bag. "Are all ghosts that charming?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Most are rather nice-- a bit unnerving at times, but nice."  
  
"Like our House ghost at Hogwarts," said Harry. "Nearly Headless Nick. He's the nicest bloke you'd ever meet-- it's just a bit unsettling that his head hangs on by a wing and a prayer."  
  
Dudley looked appalled.  
  
"I know it sounds horrible," said Ron, "But he's really a great bloke, you know? Then on the other hand there's Moaning Myrtle. She haunts one of the girls' lavatories-- gets on my nerves, that one."  
  
"Oh stop it," said Harry, "you're always bashing Myrtle."  
  
"She's downright mental!"  
  
"She's always been nice to me!"  
  
"That's only 'coz she fancies you, mate!"  
  
"She's a ghost, Ron."  
  
"Exactly! She doesn't have to worry about commitment! How else do you explain the peep show--"  
  
"The WHAT?!?" Dudley spit the sweets he was chewing on out of his mouth and stared at his cousin. "THE WHAT?!?"  
  
"RON! Please! You're already getting the story wrong--"  
  
Ron was laughing. "See Dudley, Harry was taking a bath in the boys' shower-- you know, completely starkers, right? And who should come in and sit watching him, but Myrtle?"  
  
"Ron!" Harry was beet red. "I can't believe you told him that! Didn't I make you swear not to tell anyone?"  
  
"Not that I recall--"  
  
"Well, I should have. . ."  
  
"Don't worry, Harry," said Dudley with a supportive pat on the back. "It's all right." He stifled another giggle. "But honestly Harry, just between us, did she actually see--"  
  
"DUDLEY! Shut up!"  
  
"Wait 'till Sophie hears this one!"  
  
Everything inside of Harry flew into a panic. He reached out and grabbed Dudley's sleeve. "What? No! Don't tell her that!"  
  
Dudley raised his brow, surprised at Harry's adamant reaction. "Relax, Harry, relax. Jeez, I wasn't serious. Why should you care, anyway?"  
  
Change the subject, Harry. Just change the subject. . .  
  
Boom!  
  
A tremendous explosion jolted the pavement and hurtled Harry, Ron and Dudley to the ground. Several thuds and the ensuing screaming told him that this wasn't an accidental explosion from the joke shop. He opened his eyes and found Ron, Dudley and the other bystanders just hoisting themselves from the ground. The people further down the road looked to be covered in smoke-- and little wonder why! Thick black smoke was billowing from one of the store windows, flames shooting up into the sky. . .  
  
The stars in the sky disappeared as a thick cloud obscured them. The cloud certainly wasn't smoke from the fire since the Ministry Wizards had appeared to squelch the fire with their charms. It was almost as though something else was causing it-- something other than the fire.  
  
And then Harry realized what it was. Something that he hadn't seen for two years, but sent shivers down his spine as it always had. . . the thick cloud had taken shape and color: it glowed with green sparks and formed the chilling figure of a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth.  
  
"The Dark Mark."  
  
The entire High street fell silent, staring up at the Mark in horrified disbelief. Harry pushed past the onlookers towards the scene of the fire.  
  
"Stand back, Harry!" Arthur Weasley stood at the scene, next to Molly, and grabbed onto Harry's arm tightly. Harry peered under Arthur's shoulder and saw a body lying limp on the ground. It was a witch, and from what he could tell, she was dead.  
  
"Oh no--" he gasped. "Mr. Weasley! The explosion. . . it must have shattered the glass!"  
  
She was still bleeding, a large, jagged piece of glass lodged in her chest.  
  
"Grisly," gasped Arthur. "Absolutely horrific."  
  
The Dark Mark cast a green shadow over the streets, which sent a cumulative shudder through the crowds. There were several women, now, who were crying. Molly was one of them-- she buried her face into Arthur's robes, sobbing loudly. Harry was unable to tear his gaze away from the body-- away from the blood saturating the pavement and staining her clothes and skin.  
  
Harry was suddenly overcome with a raging anger. "The Death Eaters," he whispered to Arthur, his voice so wrought with emotion that all he could manage was to ask, "Why?"  
  
"I don't know, my boy, I don't know. But don't worry. The Ministry will sort it out."  
  
For Harry, those words didn't inspire the sort of confidence they were meant to, given the Ministry's recent history. And the scary part was that they really didn't for Arthur either: Harry could hear it in his voice. Everyone was scared. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two: **

It was no surprise that the next morning, Arthur Weasley was called off to the Ministry, leaving Molly alone with the boys at the Inn. She'd been badly shaken by the tragedy of the night before and wasn't responding to the boys' attempts to console her. She just kept saying over and over again how she couldn't wait to get out of Ireland and how she wanted to see her Ginny. 

Nobody wanted to venture back to the High street, especially after Pigwidgeon flew in the bedroom window to deliver the morning paper: **TRADGEDY IN HEATHERWOOD HOLLOW **

_Heatherwood Hollow, Ireland. The peaceful, popular tourist town of Heatherwood Hollow was thrown into bedlam late yesterday evening. At 9:14 pm, a massive explosion was set off on Heatherwood High Street from inside a vacant, boarded up building. The explosion was so great that it set the building on fire and claimed the life of an innocent bystander, one Mrs. Mildred Reafsnyder, forty-nine, a prominent sorceress from London. Reafsnyder was in town on holiday with her husband and two sons and happened to be passing when the building exploded, the ruptured glass mortally wounding her in the chest. _

Just moments after the explosion, the infamous Dark Mark appeared overhead. Ministry Wizards are calling this a "deliberate and unprovoked attack intended to cause panic to the wizarding community". 

"Let there be no doubt," said Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, who appeared at the crime scene, "that justice will be served to all who had a share in this crime." 

Reafsnyder was a pillar in the wizarding community, a successful businesswoman and philanthropist known across the continent for her generosity and charity-- specifically for her contributions to the defense against the dark arts league. Memorial services will be held at Willow Vale Mortuary this Saturday. 

"_Unthinkable_," said Molly, her eyes tearing up as she thrust the newspaper aside. "Absolutely _unthinkable._" 

They sat around a lightwood table near a window in Molly and Arthur's hotel room that looked out over the ocean. Pigwidgeon was squawking, flapping his wings, and hopping from Molly to Ron to Molly again, begging for some kind of attention. 

"What's wrong with your owl?" asked Dudley. "She's throwing a fit!" 

"She," said Ron, "is a_he_, and I can't even begin to list all the things wrong with him. Go on, Piggy. . . Go on, shoo! You heard, shoo!" 

Pigwidgeon gave one last, frustrated, angry hoot before turning up his beak and flying out the window. 

"So. . ." said Dudley, "Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry of Magic?" 

"Yes Dudley, that's right. In the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office." 

"Oh," he said quietly. "Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. . ." he paused. "I. . . I don't reckon that would have much to do with what happened last night." 

"Well . . . it doesn't seem so, does it. But from what I've been told from Arthur, whenever. . ." her voice hushed. "Whenever something noteworthy happens involving You-Know-Who, it is customary for an immediate assembly of the Ministry to be called." 

"I understand," Dudley breathed. But Harry knew that Dudley really didn't understand everything. He needed to be educated on a couple points. 

"It's been a while since we've all seen the mark," Ron explained. "Last time it appeared like that in front of so many people was about two years ago, I think. Remember, Harry? At the Quidditch World Cup?" 

"How could anyone forget? That night was horrible. You see, all the death eaters have a tattoo of the dark mark on their forearm. When they had me captive the night that Cedric died, Peter Pettigrew--" (Ron reddened at the very mention of that name) "—called all the death eaters together—it causes the dark mark to burn on their arms. It's a summon, you could say." 

"They also set off the very thing you saw last night, that huge dark mark, whenever they pull off one of their little shows," said Ron. "Last time we all saw it was at the Quidditch World Cup like Harry said. They'd taken some Muggles captive and… well, it was just terrible." 

"So. . ." Dudley started slowly, "these death eaters, which is what Sophie's aunt was, set off this dark mark to show that they are the ones responsible for their crimes?" 

"Yes. It's as though they're proud of it." 

"If they're so proud, then why don't they show their faces instead of running away? A lot of stupid bloody cowards if you ask me." 

"Precisely." 

The boys went down to the seaside early in the afternoon, the water cold but still inviting. Harry didn't feel much like swimming. Dudley and Ron splashed about wildly in the mild surf, but Harry remained seated on the warm white sand, drinking in the sun that beat down on him. It felt marvelous, that sun, and should have been the boost he needed to sweep him out of his melancholy. But it wasn't enough; he was still much too consumed with what had happened the night before. He wouldn't dare admit it to Ron, but . . . he felt guilty about it. _What if_ the death eaters had attacked because they knew he was at Heatherwood High? Had his mere_ presence_ contributed to that horrible tragedy? Ron would scold him for thinking such a way, but . . . Harry knew the idea _wasn't_ ridiculous. It was perfectly possible. Everything was possible those days. 

Harry sighed and sat upright, pulling his knees into his chest. He was angry. So angry that he wasn't able to enjoy this much-needed holiday. He wanted to be carefree and swim about contentedly like Ron and Dudley, but he couldn't. And it was because of Voldemort. It was _always_ because of Voldemort. The man had seen to it that Harry's life be as torpid as possible and he was successful in ways he wasn't even aware of. Even now, he was able to keep Harry from having an entirely normal holiday, just as he had thus far kept Harry from living an entirely normal life. It was a terrifying reality that was only just beginning to dawn on Harry. As long as Voldemort was alive and in power, Harry was, in a way, shackled. His was a life not to be lived freely—it was dictated to him by Voldemort. 

"Come on Harry! Get off your bum and have a swim!" 

Ron and Dudley were both standing above him, dripping wet. 

"No Dudley, really, I'm not in the mood today." 

The two boys exchanged winks. "Then you leave us no choice, cousin." 

Harry started to get up to run, but wasn't quick enough. Ron grabbed him around the chest and Dudley had his legs tightly. 

"_Boys! Cut it out!_" Harry couldn't feign annoyance: he fell into laughter as the two carried him towards the surf. 

"Ready?" said Ron, "On the count of three! _One_--" 

"_Stop_!" Harry pleaded, laughing, as they swung him. 

"_Two_--" 

"I mean it!" 

"--_**Three**_!" 

Harry felt them let go of him and he went soaring into the air. Then his stomach plummeted sharply and he crashed into the freezing ocean water. He swam up to the surface and found Ron and Dudley splashing towards him. He responded with a huge splash in their faces and they retaliated every bit as forcefully. 

They laughed for the rest of the afternoon. When they arrived back at the Inn, Molly smiled upon sight of them-- the first smile she'd made all day. Arthur still wasn't back from the ministry and she looked genuinely relieved to see them. 

"Oh dear, Ron. You've been baked again. You forgot your sun charms, didn't you!" 

Harry took a good look at Ron and started laughing. How could he have not noticed it? Ron was beet red! The sun had bleached some of the color in his eyebrows and the edge of his hair! Dudley was rather pink as well, though not nearly to the degree that Ron was. Harry quickly stole a glance in the mirror, a bit scared to what he'd find: 

"You _bastard_," Ron was telling him. "Can't believe you didn't burn!" 

Harry's normal pallor was no more: his skin was tanned, and although his electric green eyes were at their usual brightness, Harry admitted to himself that he rather liked the way they looked with a bit of color to his skin. They weren't as unsettling as Harry thought them to be, in-fact, they actually complimented him. Well, whatever that meant. Harry _still_ considered himself to be an odd-looking bloke, and never once thought of himself to be "good-looking". Then again, Harry Potter always had always been rather frustratingly humble. 

At first glance, Harry was not the sort of fellow whom one would pick out from across a crowded room. He was smaller than most boys his age, in height and stature (although years of playing Quidditch _had_ made some . . . improvements, shall we say). But at second glance? Well, if someone's eyes _should_ fall upon him, they weren't easily swayed. With Harry, there was so much to _look_ at and awe over-- his wild black hair, his unusually bright green eyes, his contagious smile and, of course, that scar. (There was always that scar.) Harry was used to being stared at, but now the stares weren't so much of a star-struck nature than they were of an _awe_-struck nature! 

But of course Harry, in his innocence, wasn't aware of any of this. 

Arthur returned home from the Ministry late that evening looking worn and drawn, but still ready with his hopeful smile--it was his trademark, that smile. (It sometimes seemed to Harry that, as long as Arthur Weasley held a smile, there was hope left in the world.) But his eyes, however, were another story. They betrayed the fact that he was every bit as uncertain about what the tragedy had meant as everyone else. 

"They asked me, Harry, if they thought it would be . . . necessary for an Auror to perhaps accompany us for the remainder of our holiday." 

Harry nearly choked on the sweets he was chewing on. Everyone in the room stared at Arthur, mouths opened. 

Dudley finally broke the silence, "W-what's an Auror?" 

Mr. Weasley sighed. "An Auror is a wizard trained to hunt and capture dark wizards. They serve as protectors to the wizarding community. . ." he paused. "The decision is yours, Harry. I gave them my opinion. I do not consider one necessary—after all, I am a Ministry wizard. Besides, seeing Harry Potter being shadowed by an Auror might rattle more nerves than need be." 

Dudley raised his brow. "Oh? Why is that?" 

Harry studied Mr. Weasley intently, somewhat scared of the answer. 

"Well Dudley . . . most people in our world rather . . . look up to your cousin. To see an Auror with the Dark Lord's defeater might scare a lot of people—panic them unnecessarily. And if there's one thing the Ministry _doesn't_ want, it's panic." 

"It _is_ unnecessary," said Harry briskly, staring down at the carpet. "There's no reason for it. Tell them not to worry about it." 

"Well," said Molly timidly, "I'm sure that the Ministry's reasong is that since you are so high profile, you'd be an easy tar—" 

"Molly," Arthur snapped. Ron was scowling at her and she held her tongue immediately, but not before Harry blanched at what she'd almost said. Arthur turned his warming smile to Harry once again and he reached forward to squeeze his shoulder supportively. "Not to worry, Harry. The Ministry is right on top of things-- we have the matter firmly under control." (Harry wagered that Fudge had probably asked Arthur to tell him that. Such a presumptuous, premature statement sounded like something Fudge would say.) 

It was a relaxing week, without a doubt, but Harry couldn't help but admit that everyone felt a bit eager to get back. It _would_ have been nice if Harry and Dudley didn't have to go back to Privet drive, because neither of them were looking forward to dealing with Vernon and Petunia's scowling faces. The drive back home seemed incredibly faster than the drive up (as it always does when one is dreading their destination) and soon they were back amongst the cookie-cutter homes that made up Little Whinging. 

They thanked the Weasleys over and over again, and tried to assure Arthur that despite what happened the first evening, they really _did_ have a wonderful time. Arthur pressed Dudley to come inside to chat with his parents, but Dudley was adamantly against it. 

"I like you a lot, Mr. Weasley, and I just don't want to see you wrung by the neck, which is exactly what will happen if you walk through those doors." 

Harry nodded. "And that's assuming Uncle Vernon is in a _good_ mood." 

So instead they all exchanged hugs, which eventually left Harry and Dudley standing on the pavement waving as their car rattled off down the road. Dudley turned to Harry. "Well? Ready to face the Lion's den?" 

The stepped cautiously inside the front door and found Vernon and Petunia in their usual places in the living room: Vernon behind the _Daily Mail_ and Petunia deep into knitting. Their eyes followed Dudley and Harry as they walked inside, but not a word was said. 

"Hello all," said Dudley cheerfully. "Glad to see you again! Mum, Ireland was beautiful. I bought some souvenirs for you that I know you'll love. Dad, you should have seen that countryside--" 

"I do _not_ want to hear _anything_ about the past week, Dudley Vernon Dursley. I am going to pretend that it never _happened_, as is your mother. So you can just keep whatever freaky little gift you've picked up for her." 

Dudley pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket. "Really?" He opened it up to reveal a lovely blue ring he'd bought at one of the Muggle shops outside Heatherwood Hollow. "Ah, well, if you say so. Reckon Sophie can find some use for it, then." 

"There are letters for you on the table," said Petunia bitterly, not looking up from her knitting. 

Dudley bent down and picked up two white envelopes from the end table: one addressed to Dudley, and the other to Harry--_both_ from Sophie Banbury. The sight of her name on the envelope made Harry's hand tremble somewhat, but he quickly composed himself and opened the letter. Dudley was reciting exactly what Harry was reading which meant they had both been sent the same thing: an invitation! 

Mr. Harry James Potter   
Your are Invited to  
A Birthday Bash  
in honor of Mr. Dudley Dursley   
and Mr. Harry Potter's 16th Birthdays  
to be held on Saturday, 15 July  
at 6:00 pm  
20 Almond Grove, Shepherds Bush London  
W12 OTG  


Dudley and Harry beamed at each other. Dudley was bright red-- so overcome with excitement that he could hardly speak. 

"I can't believe it! Harry! Call! Tell her-- ask her-- oh, just ring her up, all right?" 

Harry raised his brow as Dudley pushed him towards the phone in the dining room. "Go on, call her!" 

"What about--" 

"Tell her we're going!" 

"Of_ course_ we're going, Dudley. It's our birthday party!" 

"I know, but-- well, tell her that we got the invitation!" 

Harry laughed. "Dudley, if you're so eager to speak with her, why don't _you_ call her?" 

"No! Can't do that! Can't do that because . . .well, she'll know that I like her." 

"You're just calling to say _hello_. No harm in that--" 

"Yes, yes, but I'd feel better if you do it! She knows _you_ don't like her, so it's okay!" 

A sickness swept over Harry. He stared at his cousin's eager eyes and couldn't speak for a very long time, his words playing over in his head: "_she knows you don't like her. . _.' 

Harry was brought back to earlier in the year on that melancholy day when Sophie and her father were moving away. Dudley hadn't been around-- in fact, no one had been around, so no one knew what had happened. It had just been him and Sophie alone . . . and that sweet kiss they'd shared. Sophie had told him that she was falling for him, and the undeniable force within him that confirmed he felt the same about her every bit as much now as he did at that moment. 

But Dudley. . . his cousin whom he'd grown to actually _care_ for within the past year. . . he loved Sophie. How could Harry possibly tell him the truth? 

_You have to, Harry. This is something you must get out in the open_. 

"Dudley," said Harry slowly, "Listen--" 

"Oh, just call her!" Dudley forced the receiver into Harry's hand and dialed the number for him. 

Harry cleared his voice and waited as the phone rang. 

"Hello?" 

Harry knew that voice anywhere. His stomach was churning from nervousness and he mustered every ounce of self-control in his body to sound calm in front of Dudley. 

"S-Sophie? Hi, it's Harry." 

There silence lasted half a second longer than Harry would have liked. Finally her enthused voice came over the receiver. 

"Harry! Sorry, you shocked me! You were the last person I expected to find on the phone! How _are _you?" 

"All right. You?" 

"All right, you know. Not too bad." 

"Having a good summer?" Harry kicked himself for relapsing into such shallow conversation. 

"Yeah, I guess. Er. . . visited Grandmum and Grandad a couple weeks ago, over in Hastings. That was nice of course." 

"Er. . . Dudley and I just got back from holiday as well. We went with the Weasleys to Ireland." 

"Ireland? Oh how lovely-- whereabouts?" 

"A-actually, we were in Heatherwood Hollow--" 

"Heatherwood Hollow? Oh Harry! Tell me you weren't there the night they killed Mildred Reafsnyder, were you?" 

"Yes, we were. We were actually on the High street when it happened." 

"_Harry_!" 

"It was horrible. We saw her lying there, oh Sophie, it was awful." 

"We read all about it in the Prophet! I'm just glad that _you're_ all right." 

"Of course," said Harry, smiling. It made him feel lighter than air to know she was so concerned about him. "And we came home to find another treat! You don't have to throw us a party, Sophie." 

"Nonsense! I told you that I would! What kind of friend would I have been if I hadn't? It's not like the Dursleys are going to throw you one. I don't even know if they're going to throw one for Dudley now that he's changed sides." 

"Actually, I haven't heard anything about it, come to think of it." He looked at Dudley whose eyes were wide, his hands grasping Harry's sleeve eagerly, wanting to know what was being said. "Dudley's really excited about it." Dudley smiled and motioned for the phone. 

Harry handed it over to Dudley. He watched with a smile as Dudley gushed over the phone. "Hi, Sophie? Yeah, it's gonna be _wicked_! Thanks so much-- what? Oh, yeah, well I'm not bothered if they don't. Your parties are brilliant, so I'd rather go to yours any day! You've been all right? Yeah? Really? Oh, that's good to hear. . ." 

Dudley was twiddling the cord with his finger, and kept shifting from one foot to the other nervously. "oh, did I tell you? We've got a dog! Yeah! A Scottish terrier, actually. You like those? Really? I didn't know that--" 

Harry coughed loudly. 

"-- oh I know, aren't they? "Eddie." Yeah, after my favorite Comedian-- oh you too? Yeah, he's brilliant. I know, I know. What? Sure, I'll tell him. Right then, see you soon, Sophie! Cheers!" 

Harry reached for the phone back, but much to his disappointment, Dudley hung it up. "She had to go-- her Dad kept callin' her. Said to tell you 'bye' and that she can't wait to see us at the party." 

Dudley took a deep breath. "God, Harry. . . hearing her voice again. . . it was like a rush, you know?" 

Harry ached inside, because he understood perfectly how Dudley felt. 

"You know what cousin?" Dudley folded his arms and lowered his voice to speak candidly with Harry only. "I honestly feel. . . like a _different person_ now. I mean, last year Sophie told me that she wasn't interested in a relationship with me or anyone else, and I really have been happy with being . . . _lucky_ enough to have her as a friend. But. . . hell, I dunno Harry. . . lately I've been feeling like I'm willing to bring it up again, you know? I mean, even she has mentioned how she's noticed my change and how she likes the person I've turned into. I told you about that, right? She said she _liked_ the person I've turned into! I'm thinking. . ." his voice was wrought with excitement and it made him tremble slightly, "I'm thinking . . . I might actually have a chance." 

Harry stared into his cousin's hopeful, bright blue eyes. Never in his entire life had Harry ever heard Dudley so earnest about anything. But. . . oh why was it that Dudley should share his exact same sentiments about the same girl? 

He was overcome with guilt. 

_Guilt? But why, Harry? You haven't done anything wrong! You can't help the way you feel and you certainly can't help the way that Sophie feels . . ._

That was true, but looking at his cousin, he felt like an absolute criminal for even having such feelings in the first place. . . 

_Harry, stop it! You're beating yourself up over something you have no control over. . ._

Maybe he could talk to Sophie and explain the situation with Dudley. Maybe. . . maybe Dudley really was the guy for her . . . 

_Harry! You're the one who's in love with Sophie! You're the one who thinks about her every waking hour-- even when you're asleep she still finds her way into your head! You're the one who has felt like a fraction of the person he was since she left! You're the one--_

But Dudley! He felt the same way! 

"Harry?" 

Harry snapped out of it and looked at his cousin again. "Er. . ." 

Dudley laughed. "You silly bastard. I ask you if you want to go out and help me look for a new shirt for the party and you have to _think_ about it? You must be tired if you can't decide if you want to get out of this god damned house!" He put his arm around Harry and the two made a start for the staircase. "That's all right. We'll go looking tomorrow, then." 

* * * 


	3. Chapter Three Sixteen Candles

**Chapter Three: Sixteen Candles**

"Harry! Come on, mate! Hurry up! We're gonna be late if you don't stop muckin' about!" 

Harry was halfway hopping towards his bedroom door as he tried to put on his trainers, zip up his trousers and calm his stubborn hair. "Coming!" he called to Dudley. As he was placing his hand on the doorknob, Hedwig flew into his window and circled his head, commanding his attention. 

"Not now, Girl, I'm late--" 

But Hedwig was adamant and nearly stuffed the envelope she was carrying into his hand. The bright green ink caught Harry's attention right away: a Hogwarts letter. At once forgetting all about his bellowing cousin, he quickly tore the envelope open and removed the letter: 

_Dear Sixth Year Student: _

It is time for you to select the two classes you will be taking on as concentration courses this term. These courses are designed to aid you in your N.E.W.T exams during your seventh year and should be selected based on which fields you feel you are most interested in and likely to pursue. Please use discretion. For example: if you received an Owl in Divination, it would make sense to choose Your Inner Eye as a concentration course and not Herbology: Unearthing the Magic. Low marks in these courses will adversely affect your academic future. Please select carefully, as this is an important step in the advancement of your magical career. 

Best Regards and Wishes, 

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress 

Harry stared at the options blankly: 

_Ancient Runes --- Archeology Meets Mythology   
Arithmancy --- Logic, Reason and the Wizarding World   
Astronomy --- Understanding the Infinite   
Care of Magical Creatures --- The Monster's Role In Society   
Charms --- The Science of Spelling   
Defense Against the Dark Arts --- Why Good Wizards Turn Bad   
Divination --- Your Inner Eye   
Herbology --- Unearthing the Magic  
History of Magic --- 2,000 Years of Oppression   
Muggle Studies --- Coexistence   
Potions --- Conquest of the Senses   
Transfiguration --- The Magic of the Human Body _

"Oh hell," said Harry, thinking out loud, "two extra courses we'll have to take this year! What, are they trying to kill us?" 

His bedroom door flew open revealing a red faced Dudley Dursley. "No, but I'll kill you if you don't hurry the hell up!" 

Harry laughed, stuffed the letter into his trouser pocket and the two friends were at once tearing downstairs. 

* 

Harry wasn't sure how he managed it, but Dudley persuaded Uncle Vernon to drive them down to London for the party. If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have reckoned Dudley bewitched his father, because that seemed to be the only logical explanation for it! Either that or Dudley was far better at getting his way than Harry had given him credit for! 

It was dusk as the three drove in through the leafy London suburb of Hammersmith, then into the equally as residential Shepherds Bush. He made a sharp left turn onto Almond Grove and their car crept up a rather steep hill, Vernon searching for house number twenty, muttering to himself along with the sputtering of the car engine. 

"I hate London, damn house numbers, they never make any sense, and I can't believe I'm actually doing this--" 

The houses were small, most of them two-up two-downs, with respectable front gardens and a car at the pavement. Number twenty was one such home: its white paint was noticeably newer than the others, their red front door shining. Vernon didn't even bother saying goodbye, he simply barked that he'd be back at half past eleven on the dot and if they weren't on the front porch waiting he'd leave without them. 

"Idle threat," said Dudley as they walked up the red brick walkway to the front door. 

"Marwick!" cried Harry, reaching down and gleefully scooping up the purring black and white cat that had been sitting at the front step. "Oh Marwick, we've missed you, girl!" Marwick snuggled against Harry's chest and Harry happily scratched her ears. 

"You're getting cat hair all over your nice gray jumper!" 

"I'll live, Dudley." 

Dudley knocked on the door. He was wearing all black: sleek trousers and a flattering polyester shirt. He sniggered. "Yeah, well, you get that cat anywhere near me and I'll kill ya!" 

The door flung open and Harry's heart stopped. 

"_Sophie_!" He shouted. 

The winsome brunette with those enormous, infinite brown eyes had thrown herself onto him. He laughed and lifted her up off her feet, squeezing her tightly, kissing her firmly on the cheek. 

_Never let go, Harry. Never let go. . ._

(Oh how he wished Dudley hadn't been staring at them, or he would have greeted her properly!) 

Sophie next latched onto Dudley with the same energy and Dudley landed her with a safe kiss on the cheek. 

Her hair was longer than Harry had remembered and her skin was tanned as his was-- maybe it was that week she'd spent at the seaside. Her cheeks were flushed though, as she flashed her mega watt, dimpled smile at her friends. 

"You're early! I was betting you'd be the last to arrive! Come in, come in! Dad! Harry and Dudley are here!" 

They walked into the home-- it didn't smell of sugar cookies as their old house had when Imelda was still alive, but it still _felt_ good. Roger Banbury came briskly down the staircase and landed both boys with a firm handshake. 

"Boys! Delighted to have you! _Delighted_! We've both missed you so very much!" 

"Good to see you as well, Mr. Banbury," said Harry, heartily returning the handshake. 

"How are you getting on with Scotland Yard here in London?" 

"Same old politics, you know. Same old politics. But I refuse to bore you with talk about me. This is _your_ night! Sixteen comes only once in a man's life, you know! Come on! We've got _plenty_ of food, so don't any of you be shy! The guests should be arriving shortly. Can I get either of you a drink?" 

"Oh!" said Sophie with a wink at Dudley. "I've got some _Butterbeer_!" 

Dudley nearly gave way to tears. "_Really_?" 

"Yeah! Ginny Weasley-- she had some sent over to us specifically for tonight." 

"Ginny?" asked Harry as they helped themselves to a bottle. "Really?" 

"Oh yes-- her and I have been keeping in quite close contact, actually. Lovely girl." 

"Oh she is, absolutely," said Dudley, savoring the drink he loved so much. "You know, Harry," he said quite seriously, "We all know she fancies you. I mean. . . I'm a _Muggle_ and even I know that. She's quite the pretty thing too. . . why don't you, you know, ask her--" 

Harry tore his gaze away from Sophie and cleared his throat, not about to let him finish that sentence. "Right, Dudley. My best friend's little sister. Be serious!" He was getting rather warm and took a long swig from his butterbeer. He threw a worried look at Sophie, but she was smiling at him. (Had those eyes ever been anything but kind?) 

She squeezed his arm supportively, winked at him and did the best thing anyone could have done at that moment: she changed the subject. 

"Dudley? Call me crazy, but I think you've actually_ grown_ since last I saw you!" 

Dudley's face lit up. "I know! I'm so relieved!" 

"Well, your Mum is tall, so it's only natural." 

"I know, but she's the only one in her family that is. The rest are all quite short, so I was certain I was doomed." 

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah, you can say that again. I haven't grown an inch since last summer. And for a minute there I was getting excited I might actually have a chance at catching up with Ron." 

"You mean Goliath?" said Dudley with a snort. "Fat chance of _that_!" 

"Dudley," said Sophie with a shake of her head, "Nonsense. I think that Harry is a perfect height!" She straightened up tall. "See? We're practically eye to eye!" 

Harry grimaced. "_Don't_ remind me." 

Dudley laughed, "She's wearing heels, mate. It's really not that bad." 

The doorbell rang at that moment. Roger opened it and in walked . . . 

"_Hermione_!" Harry cried, rushing over to her. She beamed upon sight of Harry and ran to greet him. "Happy Birthday Harry!" She glanced past him at Dudley. "Happy Birthday, Dudley! Sophie, where should I put the presents?" 

Sophie hugged Hermione and showed her where to drop off the gifts. Her sun-kissed tendrils were cut short cut as they had been the previous year, and she wore black Muggle dress shoes, slacks, and a flattering three-quarter-length blouse. It was impossible not to stare at Hermione Granger those days. 

The fireplace erupted into three blasts of green smoke, and everyone ran to help the arrivals out of the fireplace. 

"Seamus! Dean! Neville!" Harry embraced each of his friends. The three boys dusted themselves off and showered Harry with "Happy Birthdays" and then made a point of being just as civil towards Dudley. 

"Hermione, where's Ron?" asked Seamus, whose radar had spotted the butterbeer and was already finishing off a bottle. 

"He's coming. You know the Weasleys-- fashionably late." 

"Wait till you see Ron, Hermione," said Harry. "He got toasted when we were in Ireland." 

"Oh I know, he sent me a photo to prepare me for it! Poor bloke." 

As if on queue, there were four more mini-explosions at the fireplace and out stepped the Weasleys Ron, Ginny, Fred and George. 

Hermione was at once at Ron's side, dusting off his clothes, taking off his robe for him and greeting him with a quick peck. 

"Ah,_ there_ the lovebirds are," said Dean. "It's still gonna take me some time gettin' used to it." 

"_Get_ used to it, mate," said Ron, beaming, holding Hermione closely at his side. 

Ron's burn had faded somewhat, thankfully, but it was still visibly burnt. Ginny, on the other hand, was quite pale-- as though she hadn't seen daylight in a very long time... 

"All right there, Ginny?" Harry hugged her and brushed her hair back from her face, concerned. "You don't look quite well." 

"Oh," she said quietly. "Yeah, well, I was kinda sick for a while. . ." 

Fred, George and Ron tried to suppress their giggles. Sophie shot them all a warning shake of the head. "Being Sophie's brothers, I'd expect you'd be a bit more _considerate_ to her feelings!" 

"Exactly, we're her _brothers_," said George. "It's our job to be _in_considerate." 

"Hey, what exactly _did_ happen with that Margaret woman?" asked Harry, still looking concerned. 

Ginny was frowning. "That psychopath. She blamed me for her garden being overrun with garden gnomes. How stupid is_ that_? I can't bear even looking at the nasty little creatures and she blamed me for dumping ours into her garden? I still dunno where she got that crazy idea. So. . ." she paused, shaking her head. "Her and I went back and forth one day, and I basically called her something along the lines of a crazy, dirty old hag. She didn't like that too much." 

"No, I should think she wouldn't!" said Harry. 

"So . . . so she pulled out her wand and . . ." 

"_Turned her into one_," Ron exploded, laughing. "_Turned her into a flippin' garden gnome! Can you imagine it? Can you believe it_?" Fred and George were by now howling with laughter, while everyone else stared at Ginny in disbelief. 

Hermione gasped. "Oh Ginny! Not _really_. . ." 

"Yes," said Ginny desperately, "oh Hermione, it was terrible. I was stuck like that for a whole week! Do you know how hard a spell something like that is to reverse? Especially the complex sort that Margaret put on me!" 

"She showed up in our front garden," said George through heaves of laughter, " and I thought she was a real gnome and yelled at her to get the hell off our front porch and picked her up, well, you all know what to do with gnomes. . ." 

Harry covered his mouth, desperately vying _not_ to laugh at the distraught-looking Ginny. 

"Er. . . sorry, I'm the Muggle here, remember?" said Dudley. "What exactly is a garden gnome and what do you do with them?" 

Ron put a hand on Dudley's shoulder. "Garden gnomes are really foul looking, savage little monsters that love to besiege gardens and eat up the roots to all the plants. The only way to really get rid of them is to take them by the ankles and spin them around really fast and then throw them as far as you can. They get so dizzy that it takes 'em weeks to find their way back to the garden again." 

Dudley gasped. "_George_! You didn't do that to your own sister!" 

"Well, she bit me _really_ hard before I was able to chuck her over the fence! So I dropped her and she was able to get out the words "_I'm-Ginny-You-Stupid-Idiot_!" 

By now the entire company was laughing, Ginny was burning from embarrassment. 

Harry hugged Ginny. "Poor thing. Don't feel embarrassed-- that could have been any of us." 

"See Ginny?" said Hermione. "I'm always telling Ron to watch his temper! That's where that Weasley temper will get you!" 

"Oh come off it, 'Mione," said Ron dismissively. "I'm famished. Let's eat, everyone!" 

They stuffed their faces, practically emptying the great table of food that the Banburys had assembled for everyone. The company sat in the Banburys living room and between all the chewing and drinking, throwing out jokes and jibes that kept the company in stitches for most of the evening. (Harry was keenly aware of Dudley's attempts to sit beside Sophie, but made certain that he occupied the empty spot next to her on the sofa.) 

Hermione, bless her, was quick to discuss their soon approaching start of class. "Everyone get their concentration letters?" 

Everyone nodded, and excited murmuring began amongst the sixth years. 

Harry turned eagerly to Ron. "Which ones did you pick?" 

Ron looked at Harry as though it were a silly question. "Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts." 

"Oh," said Harry quietly. "Why?" 

"_Why_? Harry, really, why do you think? Hagrid will be teaching Care of Magical creatures, so I'll get full marks in that class, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts is the only other thing I'll be able to tolerate." 

"_Ron_," Herimone snapped, "That is no way to go about such an important decision!" 

"Oh come off it! Sixth year is the hardest year as it is-- I'm not gonna pick something like Arithmancy and make my life harder than it needs to be. Unlike you." 

Hermione paused momentarily-- it was obvious that she _had _picked Arithmancy. 

She quickly turned to Sophie. "How about you?" 

"Mmmm. . . not quite sure. Big decision, you know. But I'm leaning towards Defense Against the Dark Arts, for sure. And maybe Astronomy." 

"And you, Harry?" 

"I . . . I don't know. I'm not really sure what I should pick." 

"Well," Hermione prodded, "what did you get your OWLs in?" 

Harry felt embarrassed. "I. . . only got two. Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts." 

Hermione betrayed a _slight_ shock at the fact he only received two OWL certificates (even Ron got three certificates) but was remained pensive. "Those are both promising subjects. What is it you want to do after Hogwarts?" 

Harry blinked. _After Hogwarts? Was there a life after Hogwarts?_ In two years he would be eighteen years old and legally an adult-- in all likelihood, the Dursleys' would give him the boot the very second the clock ticked twelve am on 31st July. 

And then what? What could he do? Spend his life running away from Voldemort? He wouldn't have the safe haven of Privet Drive anymore-- his only hope of not getting zapped would be to stay on at Hogwarts. . . unless . . . 

Harry shook his head. "I haven't really thought about that." 

"Then my advice is to go with your strengths. Or better still," she said with a wink, "go with your gut." 

Harry knew Hermione's gut: Arithmancy and Muggle Studies. Ron was quite vocal about his. But . . . on his own? 

"Oh! And Harry," said Hermione, "speaking of classes--" 

"Sheesh," said Seamus Finnegan, "don't you ever think of anything other than school?" 

Hermione rolled her eyes at Seamus as she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. "Have you seen this?" 

She passed the parchment to him and he unfolded it: 

Get Your Certificate!  
Why settle for being an average Wizard?   
Become certified in select fields and take that first step of rising above the rest!   
The Ministry of Magic Department of Educational Development is once again announcing the opportunity  
for Wizards to take classes in several select magical fields including Apparition, Divination and Transfiguration.   
Classes are open beginning the first of September. Register now!   
(You must be eighteen years of age or older to take the test required to receive your certificate.   
Students sixteen years of age or older may take the courses for extra school credits, but may not take the tests.)   


Harry blinked and then looked up over at Hermione who was visibly eager about the idea. Apparently Sophie was equally as confused, "Hermione? You need help in pulling up your marks?" 

"No. But Ron here does. And it wouldn't hurt Harry either." 

"Hey," said Ron defensively, "I'll have you know that I did quite well last term--" 

"Barely passing isn't what I'd call 'quite well.'" 

"I already told Hermione that there's no bloody way I'm doing that. Besides, Harry. . . I've actually been meaning to talk to you about something." 

"Yeah?" asked Harry, hoping this would lead to a change of subject to get away from Hermione's idea. 

"See. . . now that Fred and George have graduated, Angelina will be holding tryouts for House Beaters, right?" 

Harry smiled. "That's right." 

"Well . . . I've been. . . thinking about trying out for it." 

Harry nearly jumped to his feet! "_Really_?" 

"Yeah. . ." 

"Ron, that's_ fantastic_!" 

"Ron," said Hermione, "you didn't tell me you were thinking of joining the house team." 

"Well, because I know you were just gonna give me the spiel about how it's going to take too much time away from my studies and how I need to devote every second of this term to bringing up my marks." 

Hermione nodded, "yes, _and_ you forgot the part about how it won't fit in with the extra classes that you'll be taking with Harry and I at the Ministry!" 

"No, _pudding,_ I didn't _forget_ that part. Those classes aren't even a part of the equation." 

"Well they should be." 

"I want to be on the team, 'Mione. You know I've always wanted to, and now I have the opportunity." 

"And you have the opportunity to bring up your marks! And in the future that's what's going to matter, not being on some silly team--" 

"_HEY_," cried Harry, Fred and George. 

"No disrespect intended," said Hermione quickly, "but Ron, you really should weigh this decision before you make it." 

"I have. And I've made the right one." 

Hermione folded her arms in defeat. "Okay. Fine. But don't come crying to me when it comes time to graduate and your marks are bottom of the barrel." 

"That's a bargain," said Ron, which won a smack in the arm from Hermione. 

Ron grinned and pulled her in close to him. "I love it when you're angry, pudding." 

"And _don't_ call me _pudding_!" 

Ron kissed her on the cheek and, just like that, Hermione calmed down and practically melted into his arms. 

"_Right then_," said Sophie loudly, clapping her hands. "I hate to break up this beautiful love scene here, but the rest of us are gonna be sick and we still have an entire cake to eat!" 

Half past eleven came much too quickly. They'd been at the Banburys good five hours, but it had been such a wonderful evening, it felt like it had been a mere five minutes! After gorging themselves with the abundance of birthday cake (it had to be big to fit all the candles on it) they had all gone a bit overboard with the butterbeer. Ron was talking very loudly and Harry was having difficulty holding all of his presents and walking a straight line towards the front door at the same time. 

The friends bade their farewells, Ron going about the traditional business of setting up the dates to meet up at Diagon Alley. 

"Twenty-fifth of August it is," said Ron triumphantly after a frustrating five minutes of comparing schedules. "And we'll be seein' you at Diagon too, right Sophie?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Oh!" said Dudley, piping up, "I'd like to come too! You're always talking about this place. Can I come, Harry? I _can_, can't I?" 

Harry shrugged. "Don't see why not, Dudley! It'll be fun!" 

"_Fantastic_," said Sophie. "Don't you two worry about anything, I'll have Dad pick us all up and we can all go together." 

"Ahhh," said Ron with a wink at Harry, "now this is what I like! All this _togetherness_! Me and Hermione-- you and Sophie-- isn't it just the greatest thing?" 

Any haze from the butterbeer was completely cleared away with Ron's last words. Harry went tense-- Ron had most definitely stuck his foot in his mouth. Out of Harry's peripheral he could see Dudley staring at him, mouth thin and solemn. The sudden quietness was terrifying. 

Harry turned slowly to completely face his cousin. Dudley didn't look angry, but he certainly wasn't amused either: he hadn't taken Ron's remark as a joke because he knew that it _hadn't_ been one. 

_Do something, Harry!_

Harry laughed nervously and patted Ron on his back (enough to make Ron give out a quick yelp of pain). 

"Enough butterbeer for you, mate." He smiled hopefully at Dudley. "Best be going, then. Don't fancy the idea of walking all the way back to Surrey. Good night everyone!" 

Harry and Dudley left the house and went back out into the strangely warm night air. It was 11:28 and Uncle Vernon was sitting in the car, his engine sputtering, raring to go. 

"You know Dudley, I reckon he _would_ have left without us," said Harry as they approached the car. 

Dudley was staring down at the ground and merely answered with a muted "yeah." He climbed into the passenger seat and Harry slid in the back, anxiously following his cousin's every move. They were soon on the motorway again, heading for Surrey, and to Harry's complete dismay, Dudley made no further attempts at conversation. 

Back at Privet Drive, their usual journey upstairs to their bedrooms would have usually been filled with laughing and joking. But tonight? Nothing. 

"Goodnight, Dudley," said Harry as Dudley walked towards his bedroom. 

"'Night," Dudley responded, closing the door behind him. He didn't _slam _the door. No, it was worse than that. He closed is slowly, very quietly, the soft click of the bolt reverberating through Harry just as though he'd slammed it with all his might. Harry shuffled sadly into his room, set down his at his desk and threw himself on top of the bed, sighing loudly. 

Hedwig was perched at the window, staring at him with her concerned amber eyes. Harry lifted up his head and met her gaze. 

"Hedwig? Your master is an complete moron." 

Hedwig kept her stare. 

"I should have told Dudley weeks ago. I should have told him weeks ago about Sophie and myself. . . but I knew how much he loved her and I couldn't bare to break his heart. . ." he heaved himself up and took a seat at his desk next to Hedwig and scratched her head. "I know, I know. I know what you're thinking: I've certainly succeeded in breaking his heart now. And not only that. . . I've really hurt something that we've both been working so hard at creating. Oh Hedwig, what should I do?" 

Hedwig nibbled affectionately at Harry's fingers and rubbed against his arm, cooing softly and contentedly. 

Harry smiled at her. "You're my best girl, you know that Hedwig?" 

Hedwig seemed to, and answered him with a loud purr-like coo. 

"But your master is still a complete moron." He threw himself back on his bed and tried desperately to get some sleep. 

* 

Things appeared to be somewhat normal in the morning. Harry and Dudley were able to speak about the party the night before and showed off their presents to one another. The one unnerving thing was that Dudley seemed to make a point of not giving Harry a great deal of eye contact. 

The air was different between them and Harry wasn't about to go the entire summer putting on the appearance that everything was fine, when it most obviously wasn't. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, Dudley was lounging on the sofa reading a magazine and Harry made up his mind that he was going to corner him and get out in the air what both of them had been avoiding. 

"Dudley, listen, you and I really need to talk." 

"Oh? About what?" 

"Now, come on, let's not pretend. You know what I'm talking about. That night at the party--" 

"Oh yes, the party." 

"Yes," said Harry. "Yes, and. . . I just wanted to tell you that--" 

"You know, I've been meaning to apologize to you about that." 

Harry's voice caught in his throat. "Erm . . . sorry?" 

"Yes, you know, I realize now that I must have seemed like a terrible friend that night." 

"You?" 

"I mean, when I think of how I hadn't told you about myself and Sophie being together, well, I just _cringe_! And knowing how very much you cared for her, I mean, knowing that you practically god damned _worshipped _her and then to find out that I'd been with her the whole time, well, I can only imagine the anger you must have felt." 

Harry was speechless. His heart was racing, his forehead was sweating, and he felt like everything around him was closing in. 

"Yes," Harry whispered, "Yes, you're absolutely right . . . " Harry couldn't stand it anymore. "Oh Dudley, I am sorry. I can't tell you enough . . . I know how I must have hurt you, but. . . the reason I didn't tell you sooner was because I was scared." "You were scared--" 

"I didn't know what your reaction would be and I didn't want anything to come between our friendship--" 

"If you _really_ didn't want anything to come between our friendship, you should have told me about this the minute that you realized you had feelings for her instead of waiting and _lying_ to me--" 

"Now wait a minute, Dudley, I never lied to you--" 

"You _lied _to me! Holding the truth back and leading me on to believe that everything was just right as rain is called lying, Harry! Grow up, already!" 

The words weren't coming. He wanted so desperately for Dudley to understand, but didn't know _how_ to get him to. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"What, you think that by saying 'sorry' I'm going to be okay? Would_ you_ be okay if the situation were reversed and I said 'sorry'?" 

"Dudley, our friendship is very important to me and I will do _anything_ to keep things they way they've been." 

Dudley stood up from the sofa and stared his cousin down. "Like I said Harry, if our friendship means as much to you as you claim, you wouldn't have put it into this position in the first place." 

Dudley turned and marched out of den, and up the staircase to his room. A door slammed shut upstairs and Harry closed his eyes. It was going to take much more than wishing to get him out of this nightmare. 

* * * 


	4. Diagon Alley

**Chapter Four: Diagon Alley**

The next few weeks were hell. 

It wasn't that Dudley acted cruel to Harry, because he didn't. And there were still enough uprisings in the Dursley household to assure Harry that Dudley wasn't about to turn back into his former self. It was hell because Harry wasn't able to talk to his cousin as he had. He couldn't laugh and joke with him as he'd grown accustomed to doing. His companions now were Eddie the Terrier (whom Dudley had all but forsaken), faithful Hedwig and, of course, the regular owls from Sophie. 

Sophie kept urging Harry to talk to Dudley, arguing that he couldn't just sit around and watch their friendship go to waste. Harry wrote back furiously, telling her how he tried to do just that, but Dudley would have nothing to do with him. 

Harry stared at her reply for an eternity: 

_Then you must try harder, Harry. Show him that you refuse to give up. Sooner or later he will understand this-- he'll see that you are willing to fight to save your relationship. You have to make that choice to fight for it. _

I miss you every day, Harry. I miss you every second. I can't wait to see you again. 

All my love,  
Sophie. 

He set the letter down. He could hear her voice in that letter, and could see the urgency in her eyes. There was something in those intense brown eyes that reminded him of who he was: giving up was not something he opted for if he had a choice. And according to Sophie, he certainly had a choice. 

It was enough to force himself up off his bed and downstairs. Of course Sophie was right-- she always was. 

He found Dudley in the kitchen, alone, munching on a bowl of cut peaches. 

"Dudley, can--" 

The phone chose that exact moment to ring. 

"Get that, would you cousin?" 

Harry grimaced and reached for the phone. "Dursley Residence?" 

"Harry! It's Sophie! Is everything all right?" 

"Hi! Yeah, I guess so. . ." His stomach did a somersault and he gripped the phone tightly. 

"I just got a letter in the post from Dudley-- oh Harry, is he home? I want to talk to him!" 

Harry could tell that Dudley was eavesdropping because he hadn't taken another bite since the phone rang. "It's for you, Dudley." 

"Who is it?" 

"Sophie." 

"Tell her I'm not home." 

"Dudley--" 

"_Tell her I'm not home!_" 

Harry sighed and put the receiver back up to his ear. "Sophie. . . he's not home right now." 

He could hear her spirits fall even over the phone. It took her awhile to say anything. "Right, then. Let him know that I'll call back when gets home." 

"Okay." 

"Harry-- I miss you." The phone clicked and Harry took a breath. 

"Er . . . she says that she'll call you back when you get home." 

"I'm guessing that she got my letter." 

"Yeah, she said something about that. What . . .er, what did you say in it?" 

"Nothing she doesn't already know. I dunno, maybe I should have talked to her. I mean, I'll _have_ to sooner or later-- she _is _the one who's taking us to Diagon Alley." 

"D-Diagon. . . you mean, you still want to come?" 

Dudley scowled. "You don't want--" 

"No! I mean, that's _brilliant_! Dudley, that's fantastic! It'll be wicked! We'll have such a blast--" 

"Harry? Shut up, mate." 

One week before their scheduled visit to Diagon Alley, Hedwig flew into Harry's bedroom and dropped off his Hogwarts letter. He ripped it open eagerly: 

Welcome Sixth Year Student!  
Enclosed you will find a list of the required textbooks for this term: _The Advanced Book of Spells - Volume One_ - by Miranda Goshawk 

_Mythology Meets History _- by Bathilda Bagshot 

_Unearthing the Magic_ - by Phyllida Spore 

_The New Threat of Dark Arts_ - by Quentin Trimble 

**_A Study in Reason: Why Wizards Go Bad_ - by Sinbad de Mourier & Quentin Trimble  
**_The Science of Spellcasting_ - by Miranda Goshawk 

** - textbooks required for concentration classes 

Underneath that letter, was a separate parchment that made Harry shout out loud: 

We are pleased to announce the following students have been selected as new School Prefects: 

Gryffindor: Hermione Granger 

Hufflepuff: Justin Finch-Fletchley 

Ravenclaw: Kevin Entwhistle 

Slytherin: Pansy Parkinson 

"What's going on in here?" Dudley popped his head in the doorway, eyeing his cousin strangely. 

"Hermione! She's been named a prefect!" 

Dudley remained stationary. "You mean she wasn't one already?" 

"No, er . . . Ron and Hermione and I have spent a lot of time in the headmasters office. That kind of . . . delayed things for her a bit." 

"Oh. Right." 

Harry was determined to use the opportunity to its fullest. "Hey Dudley, want to go down to the corner shop?" 

"Why?" 

"Why? Well, we usually do--" 

"Oh, well, sorry. I'm busy, you know?" 

And once again, Harry found himself being shut out. 

* 

Mr. Banbury and Sophie arrived in their maroon Renault early on the twenty-fifth. It was an unusually clear morning, the sky a bright blue, and it had even Dudley in high spirits. Vernon and Petunia were throwing tantrums, threatening Dudley and Harry if they dared leave to go to 'that freaky place.' 

Harry waited for Dudley at the front door with his Hogwarts robe folded under his arm. 

"Bye Mum, Bye Dad," Dudley called as he rushed to join Harry at the door and they met the Banburys at the car. 

Sophie looked like a million dollars and suddenly the past few weeks of inner turmoil seemed faraway and unimportant by the mere sight of her in her violet dress. The hour journey to London thankfully didn't rely on conversation as Roger was playing the radio at full blast. In fact, the mood in the car seemed almost . . festive! Whatever words were said between Sophie and Dudley and Harry were funny and light-hearted. It was incredibly encouraging to Harry and by the time they'd fought their way in through the horrific morning London traffic and found a parking spot, he was feeling incredibly optimistic. 

"This is it?" Roger asked as Harry led the group down the always-bustling Charing Cross Road towards the entrance of The Leaky Cauldron. 

"Not much from the outside, I know." 

"Well it's just that-- I've been to that bookstore next door countless times and I've never once noticed this place!" 

Harry winked. "You don't say!" He pushed open the door and the rest followed him inside, Roger still visibly trying to figure out _how _he could have possibly missed the pub, and they shuffled towards the opposite end of the pub. 

"'Morning Tom," Harry said cheerfully to the bartender. Tom was deeply engrossed in the morning paper, and barely head Harry's greeting. Harry had to clear his throat, "Tom? All right there?" 

Tom looked up and forced a smile. "Oh! Sorry, Harry. Yeah, all right, you?" 

"Brilliant, thanks." Tom nodded and then went right back to the morning paper. As a matter of fact, everyone in the pub seemed to be quite interested in reading the paper as opposed to their usual cheerful clamor. 

"What's wrong with him?" whispered Sophie, who then ran right into her father. Roger had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring upwards, mouth agape, at the impossibly large man before him. 

"Good Lord," he breathed. 

"Hagrid!" Harry pushed past them to greet his friend. Hagrid, who'd been standing at the bar, smiled upon sight of Harry who threw his arms around him. 

Hagrid chuckled lightly, and set his newspaper down. "Well hello to you too, Harry! Everything all right?" 

"All right, yeah, thanks. But what's wrong with Tom? He looks--" 

"Oh," said Hagrid, a sadness coming over his face. "I take it you 'aven't seen this morning's paper." 

"No . . ." 

"It's the Dark Mark again." 

"_What_?" 

Hagrid nodded and passed him a copy of the paper. "It's all over the Daily Prophet." 

Harry practically ripped the newspaper out of Hagrid's hands and poured over the headline: 

**EDINBURGH OWLERY DEVASTATED  
EDINBURGH, Scotland** The Edinburgh Owlery, one of Britain's largest Owlerys, was devastated late yesterday night when unknown assailants besieged it. At 11:45 GMT the Owlery at 8 Westfield Road was broken into. Five minutes later, Owner Zaide Weingart, who lives in a flat above the Owlery, was awoken by a loud "crash." She went downstairs to inspect the noise and found the front glass window broken and all fifty-five, Ministry-Approved owls dead in their cages. 

"It was like a nightmare," said a shaken Weingart. "All of them looked as though they were simply sleeping, but when I tried waking them, I realized they were really all dead. I can't understand how something like this could happen!" 

Ministry Wizards were prompt to the scene and as of this printing, confirm that the fifty-five owls all died of the same cause: a complicated dark sleeping spell meant only to be used on humans-- use on animals is fatal. To add to the graveness of the situation, the Ministry soon began receiving urgent owls from wizarding residents all over Edinburgh, claiming another sighting of the Dark Mark not far from the location of the Owlery. The nature of this spell has led Ministry officials to conclude that the Dark Mark sightings were, in fact, in conjunction with the attack on the Owlery. 

Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge is set to speak later today regarding the attack. 

Hagrid sighed loudly and took the paper back from Harry, tucking it away. Given Hagrid's penchant for animals, the news must have been particularly distressing for him. 

"Can't wait to hear what mad ol' Fudge has to say about this." 

"Same thing he always does," Harry said, still shocked by the news. 

"That's twice in the past two months we've seen the dark mark," said Hagrid gravely. "It ain't good, Harry. Ain't good at all. The poor owls . . ." Hagrid looked ready to cry. 

Harry squeezed his hand and offered up a smile. "Hagrid? I want you to meet some friends of mine! Of course, you know Sophie. This is her father, Mr. Banbury." 

Mr. Banbury, who was still in visible of awe of Hagrid, stepped forward and placed his hand into Hagrid's massive one. 

"How d'you do," said Hagrid amiably. 

Roger smiled nervously. "How do you do, Mr. Hagrid." 

"And," said Harry, "I believe you remember my cousin, right? Dudley?" 

Hagrid's mouth fell open. "Wha-- yer cousin?" 

Dudley offered up a smile. "Yes-- it was a long time ago, but I remember you very well." 

Hagrid was still struggling. "I . . . you. . . you look diff'rnt. . ." 

Dudley nodded, "Yes, well, I've had that pig's tail removed since then, you see." 

Hagrid was turning red. "Aye, er . . . yeah, sorry about that. . ." 

"Don't mention it, really." 

"Aye, but . . . well, it's just I was a bit upset that night an' I. . ." 

"I mean it," said Dudley, "it's forgotten." 

Hagrid didn't look convinced and Harry was fighting back his laughter. 

"S-so!" said Hagrid, "you meetin' up with Hermione and Ron, I assume?" 

"Yeah, but not until noon." 

"Y-yes," said Roger, "I've some business to attend to at Gringotts first. This wizarding banking system still baffles me, even after all these years." 

"Yer not alone," Hargid guffawed. "Well Harry, I'll be seein' you in a few days, then. Nice meetin' you, Mr. Banbury, good to see you Miss Banbury and . . . I _am _serious about the whole tail thing--" 

"_Mr. Hagrid_," said Dudley, "I mean it! If you don't stop that then I will start holding it against you!" 

Hagrid smiled and waved to them as Harry led the group out of the back of the Leaky Cauldron and towards the walled entrance to the alley. 

Sophie was insistent that Harry let her open up the passage, as she claimed she needed the practice. Dudley muffled a gasp as the wall slid apart and the Alley appeared before them. 

The streets were throbbing with the usual pulse of the shoppers, although perhaps not with the usual excitement. The streets teeming with people, but there seemed be a hush to them-- more whispering than the usual hearty laughter. And most were scouring the Daily Prophet. 

While the devastation of the Owlery was indeed sad news, the main reason for the chills that now ripped through Harry was the fact that the Dark Mark had been behind it. And it was surely the reason that the Diagon Alley shoppers were more subdued than normal. 

He followed close at Roger and Sophie's footsteps, Roger saying things like "It's been years since I've been here! Oh look-- the bookstore looks just as it did last time! And Ollivanders too-- if I didn't know better, I would swear that is the same wand that was in the window display last time..." 

"They tend to look alike, Dad." 

"Yes, I know darling, but it's so dusty--" 

A high-pitched whistling caught all of the company's attention and cut off Mr. Banbury's words. Harry spun around, slightly startled by the noise, and found two pretty raven haired girls leaning against a wall. They had silly grins on their faces, so befitting teenage girls when eyeing up a bloke, and it was quite obvious that they had been the ones whistling. Harry's stomach twisted when he realized that it was him they were still staring at and then. . . 

_Hang on a minute-- I know those girls. . ._ "_Parvati_?!?" 

Harry was too stunned to move. Parvati and Padma Patil had also realized just who it was they'd been eyeing up, and their faces fell. They all looked like they wanted the floor to swallow them up! 

"H-Harry," Parvati began, "I. . . I didn't recognize you! I. . ." 

Padma felt the need to explain as well, "Oh Heavens, Harry, I'm sorry! I swear, I didn't realize it was you. . ." 

Harry was burning from embarrassment and he was talking rapidly as well, "Never mind, forget it, it's okay, I understand, really, don't worry, just forget about it, all right?" 

The Patil sisters still seemed perfectly mortified that they had just whistled at their friend of six years. Harry turned back around and found Sophie who was trying to stifle a grin. _At least she thinks its funny. . _

Dudley, however, didn't look amused. His expression was rather difficult to read-- but whatever it was, it surely wasn't amusement. 

Parvati was trying desperately to smooth things over. "So! Er, you all came together then?" 

"That's right," said Sophie calmly, "Only just. You?" 

"Been here all day, you know," said Padma. "Window shopping and taking in the scenery--" she bit her tongue, "--er, I mean, er. . . taking in the sights, and all." She was turning the color of Ron Weasley's hair and quickly focused her attention on Dudley who staring was wide-eyed at the very attractive newcomers. "I remember you-- you're Harry's cousin, right?" 

"_Dudley_," he said clearly, "I must admit, I can't remember which one of you is which." 

Padma looked all too happy with the change of subject. "Oh, right! You're not the only one. Well, I'm in Ravenclaw with Sophie and Parvati is in Gryffindor with Harry." 

"Oh, right." 

"Er. . ." Padma was visibly fighting to think of something to say, "So! You must love it, eh Dudley?" 

"Love what?" 

"To have Harry showing you around, of course. I mean, not many people have a celebrity for a cousin, right? It kind of comes in handy sometimes, I bet! I mean, if anyone is ever giving you any trouble, it's rather nice to have someone around who practically-" 

"_Right_," said Harry quickly, cutting Padma off, not wanting to hear another word. "Well! I hate to seem like we're in a bit of a rush, but we are actually in a bit of a rush! Have to stop off at Gringotts and you know what the queues are like in that place, right?" 

Padma seemed to get the hint and looked genuinely sorry--it was as though she knew she'd said the wrong thing. And the suddenly very tense Dudley Dursley seemed to confirm that. Padma and Parvati bade the company their farewells and Harry walked briskly towards Gringotts bank, shaking his head in disbelief. 

_Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable! What were they thinking? Obviously they weren't thinking! Whistling like that! And then saying all that silly nonsense about me! As if Dudley didn't hate me enough already. And Sophie--_

But Harry felt someone at his side-a gentle tug at his robes that pulled him away from his thoughts. Sophie was beaming at him and shook her head at him. "Don't worry about it, Harry. I'm not." 

Harry smiled at her--if only she knew how good that made him feel. 

They entered Gringotts. Dudley suddenly was at Harry's side, walking closely to him. 

"Er, Harry, what--" 

"Goblins," said Harry, knowing all too well what Dudley must have been feeling. 

Roger and Sophie went to a separate window, leaving Harry and Dudley alone. Dudley's face was draining of color the closer they walked to one of the banking windows, a Goblin clerk peering at them from his spectacles in a most accusatory fashion. 

"Yes?" the Goblin demanded, drawing out the 's. 

"I'd like to make a withdrawal on vault 713." He pulled out his key and placed it on the desk. 

The goblin examined it and then nodded. "Yes, Mr. Potter, this way." 

"Oh, excuse me," said Dudley. "Might I be able to exchange money here with you?" 

The goblin looked annoyed at this question and pointed a skinny, veiny hand with repulsively long fingernails to a sign just overhead: **NOT A MUGGLE EXCHANGE POINT**

"Oh," said Dudley. "Well . . . where can I--" 

"You will need to see window number nine." 

Harry and Dudley turned around to see where the Goblin was pointing: a window with a particularly ancient Goblin and a line of terrified looking Muggles. 

Dudley took a breath and nodded, "Right." 

"You'll be all right, Dudley?" 

Dudley was already making his way towards the line. "Don't worry." 

Harry was reluctant to leave him alone, but followed the Goblin into the vaults. He scooped up the needed money as quickly as possible and annoyed the Goblin by rushing him. Back in the main lobby of Gringotts, Roger and Sophie were still at their window-- Roger looking particularly flustered-- and Dudley was . . . nowhere to be found! 

Harry's paternal instincts took over and he went over to the line, asking the Muggles if they'd seen where the short blonde boy in the blue shirt had gone. None seemed to know. Getting worried, he went back out onto the pavement, his eyes darting through the crowds in search for him. 

"Surely is can't be young Mr. Potter!" 

Harry stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly. He knew that voice . . 

"_Rita Skeeter_?" 

The tall blonde bowed slightly. "At your service." 

She looked much older in the exposing bright sunlight. Harry could see lines around her eyes and mouth that most certainly hadn't been there before. Two years had obviously done a number on her, but despite her weathered appearance, she was all smiles. "My, but you've certainly changed in two years! I barely recognized you! Well . . ." her eyes flickered over his scar and glasses. "Some things never change." 

Harry stiffened. "Yes. Some things never change." It was Harry's way of reminding her of everything that had happened between them. 

"Touche," she said in good humor. "All ready for school, then?" 

"No. . ." he said slowly, not sure what she wanted. 

"I remember my sixth year as though it was yesterday. It was the year I realized that I wanted to be a journalist. It is your sixth year, isn't it? ." 

"Yes," he answered. He was suddenly overcome with a biting curiosity. He hadn't heard much of Rita Skeeter in the past two years-- if anything at all. "What have you been up to?" 

Rita's eyes smiled at him, though they could hide their sadness. "I've been. . .taking things slow. Nothing gives someone more time to think than being trapped in a glass jar. . . aside from being unemployed, perhaps. Actually, I'm just off to speak with old man Sid at the Prophet-- my old boss." 

"Oh. Trying to get your job back?" 

She paused thoughtfully. "Well. . . I'm not going to hold my breath. I know they'll laugh me right out of the office, but you never know unless you try." 

Harry couldn't help himself. "I'll tell you one thing, Rita. If you were still with the Prophet, I'm sure we'd have the death-eaters back in Azkaban by now." 

Harry could see those words strike gold with Rita. She beamed and suddenly looked quite ready to have a lengthy chat with Harry. "Here shopping by yourself, are you?" 

"No, my friends are here too, Ron and Hermi--" he coughed back that last word, "er, and my cousin." 

"Your cousin? A Muggle, isn't he?" 

"Yes." 

"I thought . . . " she held her tongue, fighting back what she probably really wanted to say. "I thought your family wasn't keen on the wizarding world." 

"Well, my cousin has changed a lot." 

"And you've left him alone here?" Her expression darkened ever so slightly. "Him being a Muggle, do you think that's wise with people like the Malfoy's about?" Rita's eyes were staring at something behind Harry. He turned around and found Draco Malfoy leaning against the a wall of Flourish and Blotts, his Hogwarts robe thrust over his shoulder. And then Harry recognized just_ who_ Malfoy was talking to. A slender fair skinned boy whom Harry would have never recognized a year ago, but that floppy blonde hair was a dead give away. 

"Dudley?" Harry whispered. 

"Dudley," Rita repeated, "your cousin?" 

"Yes. . . er, excuse me Rita." Harry tore through the crowds, consumed with worry. 

Now, last term, there had been a number of surprises that had led Harry to think that maybe, just maybe, there was some hope yet for Draco Malfoy. They had spent three days together, along with Ron, Professor Snape and a temporary Professor, Ariah Warwick, fighting for their lives. Running from the very evil forces that Draco's father had helped to unleash. And when Draco finally saw and understood all that his father was, Harry had seen _fear_ in the eyes of someone he never thought capable of it. When Malfoy was faced with a choice: to remain at his Father's side with the Death Eaters, or run to freedom with Snape and Harry, Malfoy had made a break for Snape's outstretched hand, only to be pulled back by an enraged Lucius. The moment had been tremendously unfathomable. 

But none of that eased Harry one bit now as he approached Malfoy-- what business did he have with Dudley? Even if Harry had seen a glimmer of hope in him-- the fact that Malfoy was _talking_ to his Muggle cousin put Harry on edge. Who knows what Malfoy would do to him! 

Harry's heart started thumping in his chest. 

"Everything all right, Dudley?" he asked, placing a protective hand on Dudley's shoulder. "No trouble, I hope." 

How different Malfoy's eyes seemed than last term. He started at Harry, his eyes a chilling, icy blue. 

"Trouble? Dunno what you're on about, Potter. I was just getting acquainted with your cousin." 

"I can see that. Dudley? It's noon, we have to meet up with Ron and Hermione." 

Malfoy coughed. "Right. I'll be going then. Good meeting you, Dursley." 

He sniggered, shaking his head as he left. 

"_Dudley_," said Harry, searching his cousin's face, "you all right? Did he try and do anything--" 

"Oh calm down," said Dudley. "We were just talking." 

"Yes, but Dudley, that's _Draco Malfoy_. He doesn't just talk to Muggles unless he has a very, very good reason. What did you two talk about?" 

Dudley looked unimpressed. "Harry, please. Don't start pretending that you're actually _concerned_ about my well-being!" 

Harry was stunned. "Wha-- Dudley? How can you say that?" 

"Easily." Dudley turned away. "Where's Ron, then?" 

Harry was still shocked. "Supposed to be waiting outside of _Witchy Woman--_ Dudley, you can't honestly believe what you just said." He grabbed his cousin's arm. "Look at me! I care about you and I don't want to see you get hurt!" 

Dudley pulled his arm back. "You've done a lousy job of it so far!" 

Harry couldn't comeback because the sound of Ron and Hermione rushing towards them interrupted them. 

"Harry! There you are! What, you forgot we said to meet at noon?" 

Dudley turned away from Harry to face Ron. "Sorry! We got held up at Gringotts!" 

"That's all right. Ran into Hagrid and he told us where you were, thank goodness. If I had to spend another moment in that shop I was going to scream." 

Hermione, who was now right at his side, smacked his arm. "Oh hush." She focused her attention on Harry. "Have you heard the news?" 

Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes, isn't it horrible? All of those poor owls . . ." 

Hermione bit her lip. "Oh . . . er . . . y-yes, of course. Horrible." 

Ron laughed. "Harry, Hermione meant the news about her being a prefect." 

"Oh!" said Harry, breaking into a smile. "Yes! I'm so_ proud _of you, Hermione!" 

She pointed to the bright red and gold Gryffindor prefect badge on her robes. "Isn't it fantastic?" 

"You've earned it, Hermione," said Harry. "You deserve it more than anyone." 

She blushed. "Thanks. Oh-- but you haven't even started your shopping yet! Come on, then!" 

Ron and Hermione were first into Flourish and Blotts, along with Dudley who seemed quite determined to speak only with them. Harry, Sophie and Mr. Banbury were trailing behind, Roger in awe at the charmingly cluttered surroundings. 

Harry was searching for a copy of _A Study in Reason-- Why Wizards Go Bad, _and was getting quite frustrated that he couldn't seem to find it. 

"Harry!" Hermione suddenly appeared in the aisle, Dudley at her side. Her eyes wide. "Quick!" She grabbed hold of his sleeve and pulled him through the crowds of shoppers. 

"What is it? What--" 

Hermione stopped abruptly, smiling triumphantly before a large booth and Harry's heart sank. 

"Oh." 

The banner hanging on the table read: 

Ministry of Magic Certification Classes--- Sign Up Here!

"Certification classes?" asked Dudley. "What are those?" 

Harry groaned. "You _don't_ want to know. 

A tired looking witch was sitting at the table, drumming her fingers. She eyed the new arrivals suspiciously. 

"Yes?" she said, irritably. 

"We're here to sign up for the certification classes," said Hermione confidently. 

"How old are you?" 

"Sixteen." 

The woman sighed and wordlessly reached down into a drawer to retrieve two rolls of parchment, handing one to each. "Please fill these out completely, indicating which course you are interested in taking. Your requests will be processed immediately, however, as you are both underage, you must return this attached paper with two Hogwarts Professors' signatures within one week, or you will be disqualified from the program." 

Harry studied the application form warily, Dudley peering over his shoulder at the endless tiny print. Hermione was already finishing hers and handing it in. 

"Hermione, I really don't want to--" 

Hermione touched his arm softly before he could finish the sentence. "Please? Do it for me?" 

How could he say no to those pretty brown eyes? 

"Well . . . what class are you taking?" 

"Apparition," she said brightly. 

Harry grimaced. "That sounds boring, don't you think? Transfiguration would be infinitely more interesting." 

"So then take Transfiguration." 

"But I don't want to be alone--" 

"_So then take Apparition!_" 

Harry sighed and filled out the form in his less than admirable hand. 

The woman took the application and said, "That'll be twenty-five Galleons each." 

Harry blanched. "_What_? There was nothing about twenty-five Galleons in the advert!" 

The woman looked _very_ annoyed. "Processing fee." 

"Twenty-five," Harry grumbled, "that's an awful lot of money." 

"Now see here, Mr. . ." she looked at the form for a name. "See here, Mr. Potter, if you can't . . ." 

She stopped and made a quick double take at the application form again. 

"_H-Harry_ Potter?" Her demeanor changed completely. She sat straight up in her chair, her face lighting up. She looked around fiendishly and then leaned forward. 

"_Can I see it_?" she whispered. 

Harry couldn't believe it! Not this grown woman . . . 

"Oh come on," she pressed. "I want to see it!" 

Harry folded his arms-- of all the nerve! She'd been horribly rude to him and now suddenly wanted him to show off a silly scar? 

Hermione cut in. "Knock it down to ten Galleons and he'll do it." 

"Done." 

Harry threw a look of shock at Hermione, who was beaming. Dudley was similarly interested to see what Harry was planning to go, his brow arched. Harry shook his head and, begrudgingly, lifted the hair from off his forehead. The witch gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. 

He was rather embarrassed and slightly humiliated at all this, but the look of triumph on Hermione's face as she handed me over ten Galleons was well worth it. 

"Oh," said the woman, "and . . . could you please?" She slid a quill and paper towards him. "My little girl. She's a big fan, you know?" 

Hermione shot Harry a look that screamed _You Sign That If You Know What's Good For You._ Harry quickly scribbled his name and slid it back, along with his ten galleons. The witch was smiling, admiring her autograph, and absently took the money. She wrote them out a receipt and handed it to them. 

"Cheers," she said happily. 

"Yeah," said Harry as they walked away. Hermione was proudly folding her receipt. 

"What I go through for you, Hermione." 

"Ah, you love me, you know it." 

"I thought that was my job!" It was Ron, coming up behind them. He was smiling, his arms full of books. Hermione giggled and pecked him quickly on the cheek. 

"Yeah, you too, hon." 

"Better be," he said with a wink. 

"Where's everyone else?" 

"Oh, helping Sophie. We've having a helluva time finding all our textbooks. It seems that someone pulled a prank on the shop and now all the shelves keep changing places." 

"So that's why I couldn't find my books," said Harry. 

"Where's she now?" asked Hermione. 

"In the back by the exit-- I think the botany section just appeared back there or something." 

"Let's go help too," said Hermione good-naturedly, pulling Dudley's sleeve. 

Once they'd left, Ron beckoned Harry closer. "Hey," he said in a hushed voice, "what's going on between you and Dudley?" 

_Was it that obvious_? 

"Dunno what you're on about." 

Ron raised his brow as if to say 'don't give me that.' 

Harry buckled. "Okay, fine. . . well, really it's nothing. He just. . ." he paused and shook his head. "All right, he hates my guts. He . . . found out that I fancy Sophie and that . . . she fancies me." 

"Ohhhh," said Ron. "Okay. I get it. Is he . . . okay?" 

"He won't let me in. Just puts up a front, you know? When we both know things are not okay. And then today, I saw Malfoy--" 

"Oh! So did I! I thought I'd take a chance and say 'hello' to see what would happen." 

"And?" 

"The bastard. Turned up his bloody nose to me. As though . . ." 

"As though nothing happened last year, right?" 

"Exactly." 

Harry shook his head. "He's a real piece of work, isn't he. And, what really gets me, is that I saw him _talking_ to Dudley!" 

"What? But Dudley's a Muggle!" 

"I know." 

"The Malfoys hate Muggles!" 

"I know." 

"This can't be good!" 

"I _know_, Ron!" 

"What can't be good?" 

It was Dudley, who had appeared with Hermione, Sophie and Mr. Banbury. Sophie's hair looked frazzled, and her face flushed-- it was obvious she'd been through a lot trying to get those books. 

"Those stupid bloody shelves," Ron lied. "I mean,_ look_ at you, Sophie." 

"I think they should give you a discount on those," said Harry, smiling at her. 

Hermione laughed. "Yeah-- we'll just have you go up and show 'em your scar!" 

It wasn't too much later that they bid their farewells to Ron and Hermione and left Diagon Alley. Roger sped them along the motorway back in the direction of Surrey. Apparently, Roger and Sophie were to visit the Arlingtons (Imelda's parents) that evening in Sussex, so he didn't mind the drive to Little Whinging. 

Harry was bursting to know what Malfoy had said to Dudley, but Dudley had taken out his CD player and headphones and was staring out the window. The further they drove, the heavier his lids became and soon he was out like a light. 

Harry sighed loudly, folding his arms in defeat. He felt a pair of eyes on him and he looked up to see Sophie turned around in the front seat, peering overtop the headrest at Harry. 

She smiled. 

"Poor bloke," she said. "He's had an exciting day. I remember last year when I saw the Alley for the first time-- I was _exhausted _afterwards." 

"Me too." 

Sophie kept her gaze on Harry and he understood that this small talk was not what she'd truly wanted to say. 

When she finally spoke what she'd been laboring over, her voice was hushed. "Do you think he'll be okay? You know. . . with everything?" 

It was the one question that Harry did not have the answer to. 

"I've been wondering that for the past month." 

Sophie nodded and then, silently, turned around and slid back into the front seat. 

The journey home felt eons longer than their ride into London-- silence can do that. Dudley was groggy and grumpy with Harry for waking him up from his sleep. They climbed out of the car, Sophie with them. 

Harry collected his belongings and thanked Roger for the ride. 

"And have fun with your parents, Mr. Banbury," Dudley added cordially. 

"_Thank_ you Dudley, and please, give my best to yours." 

Dudley grunted, but assured Roger he would do so. 

"Goodbye, Dudley," said Sophie and gave him a hug. Dudley looked taken aback, but allowed her to do so anyway. 

Harry locked on her gaze. "Goodbye, Sophie." 

She winked. "Goodbye, Harry." They hugged each other and Harry was certain it was going to take every ounce of strength he had to let her out of his embrace. 

"Keep in touch," she said with pleading eyes and then turned to Dudley. "I mean that, you hear?" 

Dudley nodded. 

She climbed back in the car and soon the car was waning away in the distance. Inside the house, Vernon and Petunia were lounging in the living room on the sofa, watching television. 

Harry and Dudley said hello, but as expected, Vernon and Petunia simply ignored them. 

"Dudley," said Harry, gently touching his sleeve as they reached the top floor. "Did you have fun today?" 

Dudley considered Harry for a moment before finally answering. "Yeah, he said, opening the door to his room, "it was great. 'Night." 

The door closed, leaving Harry out in the hall alone once more. It was _murderous_, this cold treatment. But Harry was prepared to endure anything if it meant keeping his friend. 


	5. Chapter Five The Beater

**Chapter Five: The Beater**

  
How strange it seemed to Harry that this was the sixth time he sat aboard the scarlet Hogwarts Express with Ron and Hermione. It was a journey he'd grown to know so well, that he could tell simply by the endless green of the hills, the manner in which the shadows fell across the fields, and by the _feel_ of the air, that Hogwarts -- that _home_-- was just around the corner. 

They rounded a bend and Hogwarts' towering spires became visible in the distance, just as dusk was setting in and the castle with all the hills surrounding it seemed to burn with deep purple and blue. And at that moment, when Harry's breath caught in his chest as it always did when the castle's silhouette jumped out at him, everything that had been plaguing him simply vanished. Dudley, Sophie-- all of it. His stomach twisted, just as it would have if he were to have caught sight of a true love-- for his feeling towards Hogwarts was most certainly a love affair. 

The train finally crept to a stop. Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as Ginny, were met almost immediately by the other Gryffindor sixth years. Dean Thomas, who'd been named a Prefect the year before, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown sought them out amongst the throngs of students, and they began their walk out of the station, up the hill towards Hogwarts. The excited whisperings between the students on the journey either focused on the adventures they encountered on their holiday (or lack thereof) or it was about the horrible tragedies of the past few months. 

Seamus appeared to be obsessed by it. "You know that Owlery in Edinburgh? I'd bloody been there just the day before!" 

"You're lying," said Dean. 

"No, really! Me own owl, Gingersnap, was gettin' much too old and Mum and Dad took me to pick out a new one. I couldn't believe it when I read the news the next day!" 

"You and everyone else in the world," said Dean. 

"Gran was really shook up about it," said Neville. "Wouldn't even let me go outside after that without me telling her where I was." 

Seamus smirked. "Isn't that normal for your Nan anyway, Neville?" 

Neville blushed and they all laughed as they followed McGonagall in through the main entrance and into the great hall. 

Ah, that warm candlelight-- how Harry had missed it! Even more than that, he had missed the sound of the rush of robes as the students made for their seats, and the steady hum of chatter that followed. 

"_Malfoy_," said Ron in a low grumble. Harry craned his neck to see Malfoy take his prominent seat at the Slytherin table. "Ever find out what he was talking to Dudley about?" 

Harry shook his head sadly, eyeing Malfoy. 

"I'd get to the bottom of that, if I were you. Malfoy and a Muggle spells trouble." 

Draco looked up and caught sight of Harry and they held a steady gaze. Draco's eyes hit Harry with an impenetrable coldness-- they felt ever so much more biting than they ever had before. Whatever softness or vulnerability Harry had briefly seen before was most certainly gone now. 

Seeing Draco right then, well, it was as though last term had all been a silly dream. 

"Hey!" came Neville's voice, ripping Harry away from his thoughts, "It's Professor Gray! He's still here!" 

Harry looked up to see Professor Simon Gray in his signature crisp black robes, taking his seat next to a stern-faced Severus Snape. 

Harry lit up immediately upon sight of Gray. Professor Gray was their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor last term, and the first one in untold _years_ who was back for a _second_ term! Everyone loved him. But none more so than Harry, and for good reason: Simon Gray was none other than Sirius Black. 

Sirius' eyes found Harry and he nodded a friendly hello. Harry beamed. 

The great doors burst open at that moment, and in walked Professor McGonagall with a trail of tiny first years behind her. Their mouths were gaped in awe, and their eyes were wide, taking in the strange new world around them. 

The sorting ceremony seemed to just whiz by and soon there were only a handful of first years left. The last was a frail, pale-faced girl who looked ready to faint. 

"_Gryffindor_!" shouted the sorting hat, and Harry, along with the rest of the house, broke into applause. The girl looked visibly relieved as she walked down the aisle, looking for a seat. 

Harry made Seamus move over. "Here you go, there's a spot right here." 

She had an elfin quality about her and she blushed at Harry's kind gesture. 

"Th-thanks." 

Colin Creevey reached forward across the table. "Hi! I'm Colin Creevey! What was your name again?" 

"Vera Zaentz." 

"Hello, Vera. This here's my brother Dennis, and _that_ you're sitting next to is _Harry Potter_." "_Colin_," Harry scolded. _After all these years, you'd think he would know better than that._

Vera's mouth fell. "_Really_?" Her eyes made their inevitable search of his forehead. "Oh, I've read all about you!" 

"Only believe half of what you read, _if _that--" 

"Don't listen to him," dismissed Colin with a wave of his small hand, "he's always trying to be noble." 

"I'm not trying to be noble, Colin, I'm just tired of you constantly--" Harry's words trailed off and he stared at the first year in horror. "What do you think you're doing?" 

Vera had pulled out a quill. "Well, Mum really loves you-- I _have_ to send her an autograph." 

It was like second year all over again. Harry shifted uncomfortably at his seat, keenly aware that the eyes of the entire Gryffindor tape were upon him. 

"Maybe later, okay Vera?" 

"Promise?" her wide eyes were pleading. 

"Yes," he said quickly. 

Ron seemed to love all of this. "_Hey_! I've got a great idea! Maybe Colin can take a picture of Harry for you, Vera, and you can have _that_ signed. Colin's really good at that sort of thing, you know." 

Harry _scowled_ at a smiling Ron. 

"_Thanks_, mate." "Anytime." 

Harry's thoughts of strangling Colin and Ron were interrupted by Professor Dumbledore at the faculty table who stood up and clapped his hands. 

"Well done first years, yes, well done! I should like to welcome all the first years to Hogwarts, and an equally as warm welcome to the rest of our returning students. Now, I know you are all most anxious to begin the feast, but a few words before we begin . . ." 

Harry chuckled to himself, well remembering _Nitwit, Blubber, Odment, Tweat_ from his first year. 

"As is the custom, Quidditch trials will once again be held during the second week of term. Please see Madame Hooch if you are interested in trying for your House team." 

Harry nudged Ron in the side. "That means you, Ron." 

Ron smiled and lowered his eyes bashfully as Dumbledore continued. 

" . . . To all seventh year students, please be reminded that study sessions for your NEWT exams will be held by Madame Pince in the library the first and last Monday of the month." 

Harry could hear Hermione eagerly whispering, "I wonder if they'll let me sit in on them." 

" . . .And finally," said Dumbledore, "I would like to extend a warm welcome to our _returning_ defense against the dark arts professor--Simon Gray!" 

Harry led the Gryffindors in a round of applause, which was soon matched by the other Houses--even Slytherin obliged! 

"It has been nine years since such has been the case here at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, "and I am sure that I speak for all here when I say . . . it's about time!" 

The room erupted into laughter and more applause and even from where Harry sat, he could see a red flush to Sirius' cheeks. The clapping and laughing finally died down and Dumbledore didn't move from his spot. In fact, he just stood there, not saying anything. Soon the entire hall fell silent, watching Dumbledore-- wondering what it was he was doing. 

The silence _commanded_ their undivided attention. 

"Now. . . I should like, for a moment, to speak to you all regarding the recent events that have shaken our community." 

Harry's stomach plummeted, and the other Gryffindors similarly donned solemn countenances. They waited for Dumbledore to continue. 

"I understand that many are, quite frankly, _scared_ of what has been happening in recent months. I wish to impress on all of you the seriousness of the current state of affairs-- we are living in what seem to be uncertain times. However, I tell all of you today, there is one thing you can be certain of. And that is, of course, that good triumphs against evil." He paused and then, in a voice stronger and angrier than Harry was accustomed to, he added, "_Always_." 

Harry fought off a case of the chills. 

Dumbledore cleared his throat and then clapped his hands together, the smile returning to his eyes once more. "There was one more thing I wished to announce to all of you. . . oh yes! How silly of me to forget: _let the feast begin_!" 

Oh now surely _this_ was truly what Harry missed most of all about Hogwarts: the banquet! Once those delectable pastries and sweets appeared, everything else was forgotten! As they ate, Harry couldn't help but think of how different the Gryffindor table _looked_. He'd always loved being able to look down the table to watch the upper years laughing and joking, but now? _They_ were the upper years! Gone were Angelina, George, Fred and all the rest of their old friends. Now Harry caught sight of the lower years looking up to _them_! 

Seamus and Neville engaged themselves in a battle of the pigs--they were both determined to out-eat the other with strawberry tarts. Harry thought he could stand a chance, but after two tarts, he pushed away his plate, absolutely certain he would burst. 

"You lightweight," said Seamus as he finished off his fourth. 

"Look who's talking," said Neville: he was onto his sixth. 

"You two are both disgusting," Hermione scolded as she got to her feet. She fixed her hair and straightened her robes as though she were about to leave. And sure enough, she turned to walk away. 

Ron was surprised. "Oy! Hermione! Where you going, then?" 

"Sorry. I have to take the first years on a tour of the common room. Gotta go, Dean's waiting!" She winked at Ron and then hurried off down the hall. 

Ron grimaced. "She's gonna be spending all her time with Thomas. . ." 

"_Ron_, come on now" said Harry, "don't be stupid!" 

They watched as Herimone and Dean called for the Gryffindor first years to stand and follow them out of the hall. "First years," she was shouting, "This way, come on!" The crowds of starry-eyed first years rose from their seats and eagerly obeyed. 

Ron shook his head as the rest of the students slowly filed out after them. "Lads, were we ever _that_ small?" 

"I still am," said Seamus sadly. 

"You boys always were a bit big for your britches, in my opinion." 

Harry and Ron turned to face Professor Snape, tall and imposing, who was conveniently standing behind them, his arms folded in his robes, sternly eyeing the new arrivals before letting his stare finally fall on Harry and Ron. 

"But that is just my opinion of course." 

"Professor Snape," said Harry cordially, nodding his head. Snape returned the nod, his face every bit as expressionless as it always was. 

"Though I must say, they do seem to get smaller every year." And then he seemed to grow uncomfortable, as though that last sentence had been one too many. "See you in class," he said quickly and then spun around on his heel and marched away. 

Neville looked as pale as Sir Nicholas. "Am I hallucinating or did Professor Snape just leave without taking point from us?" 

"I was just gonna say the same thing," said Seamus. "It must have been that sixth strawberry tart. Better get to bed before I start getting delusional." He playfully nudged Harry's arm. "Come on, you lot, I'm bloody knackered. Let's go to bed." 

No one argued. 

* 

Harry stretched happily in his bed, which felt like heaven itself (although it did feel noticeably smaller than it had in previous years). He was ready to pull the sinfully soft blankets overtop his head to block the relentless morning sun when he remembered-- this was the first day of class! 

He rushed to get dressed and tore down into the Great Hall where Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the other Gryffindors were already halfway through their porridge. Hermione was talking, absently twiddling with her prefect badge as she'd been doing ever since she'd first received it. 

"Your schedule, Harry. McGonagall already passed them out." 

Harry groaned when he saw the schedule-- it was positively brutal: 

  
**Name: POTTER, H**

6:45. . . . . Quidditch. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hooch  
8:15. . . . . Potions. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Snape   
9:30. . . . . Defense Against the Dark Arts. . . . . Gray  
10:45. . . . . Care of Magical Creatures. . . . . . . Hagrid  
12:00. . . . . Lunch  
12:30. . . . . Transfiguration. . . . . . . . . . . . McGonagall   
13:45. . . . . Astronomy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sinistra  
15:00. . . . . Charms. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Flitwick  
  
*16:00. . . . . Science of spell casting (Wednesdays only) . . Flitwick  
*16:00. . . . . Study in reason(Fridays only) . . . . . Gray  
# Apparition - off campus . . . . . . . . . . . . . Warwick  
  
* - Concentration class  
# - Extra credits  


"Don't look so shocked, Harry," Hermione was saying, "Your sixth year is your most academically challenging year." 

"And I let you talk me into taking that extra class." 

"Well, no offense dearie, but I really didn't leave you much say in the matter." Hermione winked at Harry while everyone around them giggled. "And McGonagall said that Apparition is going to be twice a month -- ever other Sunday beginning next week." 

"Off campus?" 

"Yes," said Hermione eagerly, "apparently we take the classes as the actual Ministry of Magic!" 

"_In London_?" 

"_Yes_!" 

"Wicked!" 

The thought of traveling to London regularly was incredible news! _And that means that I just might be able to see Sophie once in a while! I hope that I can . . . I already miss her . . ._

"I know!" Hermione was gushing, "It's brilliant! Only problem is that we have to travel by floo powder." 

Harry grimaced, but floo powder was surely worth it! He took a closer look at his schedule. 

"Warwick," he said, "Hermione, you don't suppose it's _Ariah_ Warwick, do you?" 

"What? Where?" Seamus, Dean, Neville and Ron all quit their giggles and snapped to attention. 

Seamus in particular. "Bloody sign me up now if _she's_ teaching!" 

Ron chuckled. "Fond of her, er, teaching methods, eh Seamus?" 

"Among other things, aye." 

Harry laughed -- not that he blamed Seamus in the slightest. Ariah Warwick had done some substituting the previous year for Professor Snape and had made quite a hit with the boys. She was absolutely stunning. And, as Harry and Ron learned later, she also used to be an Auror. She had a deep love for teaching, so it only made sense she would have taken such a job at the ministry. 

Seamus looked glum. "Anyone else have _Your Inner Eye_ for a concentration?" 

"_Oh yes_," cried Lavender. 

Hermione frowned. "_Trelawney_ is teaching that. You could not have _paid_ me to take that class." 

"Well . . . you _could_ have," said Ron, "it would just have to be an awful lot of money." 

"You are all so mean to Professor Trelawney," said Lavender. "She's incredible!" 

"And incredible _fraud_," said Hermione dourly. 

Lavender looked personally hurt by that. "You're being perfectly unfair." 

"Nonsense, Lav," said Seamus sarcastically, "we all know that she's everyone's _favourite_ professor." 

"What's this about favourite professors?" 

Harry looked up to find his dear Professor Gray standing over him. 

"Aye," said Seamus, "We were just saying how you, Professor Gray, are probably everyone's--" 

"Oh Finnegan, really, you're too kind!" 

"-- _least_ favorite!" 

On impulse, Harry playfully socked Seamus' arm and then smiled up. "All right, Professor?" 

Translation: _I've missed you all summer, Sirius! _

"Yes, thank you. I trust that you all had a nice summer holiday?" 

Translation: _I've missed you too Harry, so happy to finally see you again!_ "Dunno about me," said Neville glumly. "I spent mine practically barricaded in my own house." 

Ron giggled. "So did Ginny." 

That won Ron a vicious sock in the arm from his blushing sister. 

Professor Gray sighed, "Yes, I heard about that! Most unfortunate, indeed!" 

"Oh?" asked Ginny, her face twisted in confusion. "How did you hear about that?" 

Harry, Ron and Hermione all shared a quick look of panic. Professor Gray's true identity was a secret shared only between them and a select few Professors. 

"Well," said Ron quickly, "Dad knows Professor Gray quite well, Ginny, you know that." 

"No I didn't--" 

"Yes," said Professor Gray, "that's right, Mr. Weasley and I go back for years." He cleared his throat. "Glad to see you're doing well, Ginny. And it is good to see all of you again." His eyes fell pointedly upon Seamus, "Well . . . _almost_ all of you. _Finnegan_." 

Seamus laughed and Professor Gray bowed cordially before sweeping away. 

Harry had to gulp down his breakfast and soon they were trekking into potions, the dungeon filling with that eager, first day of class anxiety. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were at their usual position and as Harry walked towards his spot next to Ron and Hermione, he was visited with an urge to do something no Gryffindor ever did: talk to a Slytherin. Harry slowed his pace across the room and paused in front of where they sat, his curiosity about the other day getting the best of him: he had to know. 

Draco ignored him at first, but when it became obvious Harry wasn't going to leave, he made a point of throwing down his quill in disgust and folding his arms. He looked up at Harry, annoyed. 

"Yes? Potter?" 

_Does Draco really have to spit like that every time he says my name? Completely uncalled for. . ._ "Are you gonna tell me what you and my cousin were talking about?" 

Draco didn't flinch. "Oh. Right . . . _Dudley_, isn't it?" He smiled. "Nice bloke . . ." 

Harry's fears were confirmed. "Listen Malfoy, I don't care how you treat me, but leave you Dudley alone, all right?" 

He wasn't threatening Malfoy-- he was almost pleading with him. 

"Be serious, Potter. What would _I_ want with a _Muggle_?" 

"I don't know, but you must want _something_, otherwise you wouldn't have bothered even speaking to someone supposedly so far beneath you." 

Draco feigned disgust. "What kind of person do you think I am?" 

"_What-did-you-say-to-him_?" "Temper, temper," said Draco, his calmness absolutely infuriating Harry. "You'd better find your seat, Potter, before you loose Gryffindor any points. You'll be needing all you can get." 

Harry grimaced and was further angered when Snape replied with "I couldn't agree more, Malfoy." 

Harry sulked through that first class and couldn't wait to get to defense against the dark arts to see Sirius. The minute that class was over he practically raced up the staircase to the second floor. The defense against the dark arts chamber was an entirely different universe, as far as Harry was concerned. When you walked into Professor Gray's classroom, there was a warmth in the air and a general mood of calm. It was the same way Harry always felt when Sirius was near-- the secure feeling that everything was going to be okay. 

Harry's sulk faded when Professor Gray walked into the room. His long crisp black robes this time had a thin lining of deep navy blue, and his spectacles, while still thick and magnified his eyes, were this time were much smaller and infinitely more complimenting to his handsome, chiseled face. (Harry was quite aware of a few of the Hufflepuff girls smiling dreamily at their professor.) 

The Professor stood at his desk, his hands folded, smiling at his students fondly. "Thought you were gonna get rid of me, did you?" 

The students laughed. 

"To be painfully honest, all of you sixth years might well wish you had. It just so happens that your sixth year is your most difficult year, academically speaking, and the curriculum for defense against the dark arts is. . . well, it's not pretty. _But_, I am going to do my very best to make it as enjoyable and as _tolerable_ as humanly possible." 

Sirius made good on his promise, to be sure. Although their homework from day one was foreboding to say the least, in _all_ their subjects (Potions leading the pack, of course), in Sirius' class, every effort was made to include the students and interest them in what they were learning. That way, the workload seemed like less of a chore. 

As he'd done last year, Harry made a point of getting away from the students at lunchtime to have a chat with Sirius. He snuck up to the second floor and found a pitcher of iced pumpkin juice and sandwiches waiting for him. 

"Harry!" Sirius stood up from his desk and removed his thick glasses revealing the face that Harry had come to love so very much. "How are you, my boy?" 

"Brilliant!" 

Harry greeted his Godfather with a bear hug. Sirius motioned for him to have a seat and handed him a glass of juice and a sandwich, still beaming as Harry ate. 

"I wanted to come and see you this summer, but it seems you were quite the social butterfly!" 

"Yeah, there was a lot going on." 

"Dudley still treating you well?" 

Harry slowed in his chewing. "Dudley has been great," said Harry, sadly remembering his dear cousin. "It's me who's been horrible." 

"Sorry?" 

"Well . . . see . . . remember Sophie Banbury?" 

Sirius didn't say anything, but the slow smile that crept across his lips spoke volumes. He cleared his throat. "Yes, I do. The girl whom Dudley fell head over heels in love with?" 

"Yes. . ." 

"And the same girl that you positively _swore_ to me you thought of _only_ as a sister?" 

Harry had to smile. 

Sirius was loving this and coolly sat back in his chair. "Ahhh. To be sixteen again." He helped himself to a glass of pumpkin juice. "So I take it Dudley found out that the love of his life has no interest in him, but rather, his cousin." Sirius whistled. "I believe this is what Muggles call being stuck between a rock and a hard place." 

"You can say that again." 

Sirius eyes twinkled. "You wouldn't be teenagers if things like this didn't happen." 

"But . . . I've really hurt him, Sirius! I was scared to tell him about Sophie and Me because I knew it would devastate him and when he did find out about it, well, you can imagine! But we've put so much into our relationship! I...I would give _anything_ to save it." 

"I'm afraid you're far too innocent. Jealousy, especially in the case of someone like Dudley, can devour even the strongest of friendships. I read once that jealousy would be a much less agonizing thing if we could understand that love is a kind of passion that isn't at all related to our merits. The fact that Sophie has different feelings towards you is nothing against Dudley as an individual, nor does it mean he is any less important than you are." 

"Exactly!" said Harry, "but . . . but he won't even let me _talk_ to him and when I do try and explain, I know that he's not really listening." 

"You shouldn't have to_ explain_ anything. The cards are on the table, so to speak, are they not? I'm sure he knows all of what happened, so what is there to explain? You shouldn't have to explain to your friends. What you _can_ do is _show_ how you truly care for him." 

"I _have_ been." Harry could feel his throat tighten and he lowered his eyes. "It's just that . . ._he_ doesn't care." 

Sirius sighed. "If a friendship dies, it's because it never really existed in the first place." 

Harry was thrown at those words and he had to work hard at keeping his eyes from welling up. Sirius could sense this because he poured himself another glass of pumpkin juice and changed the subject. 

"Tell me! How has old rotten old Snape been so far?" 

"Same old Snape. Although he hasn't taken as many points from Gryffindor this year." 

"No doubt what happened last year has a lot to do with that." 

A barrage of memories flooded him-- those nights that he was stranded in the Caledonian Forest with Ron, Draco, Snape and Ariah Warwick. It had been surprising how well the unlikely quintet had got along with each other. And when Harry and Severus were trapped in a cave with a legion of Death Eaters intent on killing them, the two had made a fantastic team at fighting against them and Voldemort. 

Sirius appeared to be on the same wavelength. "That reminds me: what about Malfoy?" 

"Malfoy?" Harry repeated, frowning again. "Unbelievable. I look at him now and can't see anything but _hate_. If only you could have been there last year in that cave, Sirius. Snape was shouting for Malfoy to come with us, and Malfoy _thought_ about it! He ran for Snape's hand! But Lucius, oh, was he ever enraged and pulled him back." 

"So you've told me." 

"But it just doesn't makes sense! How could Malfoy have changed so much over the summer-- I doubt he even remembers those three days in the forest." 

"Oh, but it _does_ make sense, and you know why?" Sirius leaned forward. "_Lucius_. Can you imagine the hell Lucius must have put Draco through after seeing his own son turn away from him? You didn't expect him to let Draco get away with something like that, did you? I can't imagine what Lucius must have done to him, but this is precisely what I expected." 

Harry nodded sadly. It still boggled him that he was so completely wrong about someone. 

"Oh! I wanted to tell you: guess who I saw at Diagon Alley?" 

"Who?" 

"_Rita Skeeter_!" Sirius laughed. "Ahhh. Begging for a job, I assume?" 

"How'd you know?" 

"Everyone knows. After the Prophet gave her a dishonorable discharge, she's been unable to get decent work." 

"It was weird! She was . . . nice to me! I mean . . ._ nice_." 

"I would be too if I'd been kept in a glass jar by your best friend! I'd be _extremely_ nice to you! And speaking of friends, how is Ron?" 

"Ron? Oh, he's _fantastic_! You know about him and Hermione, right?" 

"Who doesn't! It's funny: whenever I seem them together they are always fighting!" 

Harry laughed. "Oh yes, it's what they're best at. They're having a bit of a go at the moment because Hermione is irritated with Ron's . . . err . . . academic choices." 

"How do you mean?" 

Harry took a swig of pumpkin juice and then set the goblet down, his smile ready to fly right off his face. "Well, he's going to tryout for a Gryffindor Beater! Quidditch tryouts are tomorrow!" 

* 

It was a fresh autumn morning, still early enough that the sky was still predominantly navy blue and black-- only the pink and yellow hues creeping over the surrounding hills hinted at the sun's imminent arrival. Dew slid down the thick, deep blades of grass that made up the Quidditch pitch. The morning moisture made the ground rather mushy and it squished under Harry's boots as he approached the Quidditch House Team Captains and Madame Hooch. 

_Ah, that smell. There's only one smell like this in the world._ The earth and grass were especially fragrant this morning and it filled Harry's lungs and chest with an invigorating power. _No, nothing like it in the world_! 

The Gryffindor Quidditch team was practically unrecognizable. Mainly because at the start of this new season there basically _was_ no Gryffindor Quidditch team: Angelina had graduated last year, along with Chasers Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, and the star beaters Fred and George. That left only Harry and a reserve that'd become a chaser last term, Lars Lonnegan, which meant that Gryffindor had no team captain. 

Now, Harry and Madame Hooch had had a _long_ chat the night before about the dilemma. Harry had made it very clear to Madame Hooch that being Quidditch Captain was _not_ something he'd wanted to do. Especially now because he had an incredible workload to deal with and quite simply, wouldn't be able to devote the needed time to strategies and organizing practices and all the sleepless nights that went into being a Captain. That and the fact that he honestly didn't think he was the best man for the job: Ron knew more about strategy than anyone else, but he wasn't even on the team yet! Unfortunately, the fact was that Harry was the _only_ man for the job-- since the entire team had graduated it didn't really leave too much of an alternative. Hooch informed him that the Captain had to be either him or Lars Lonnegan who'd spent the past two years as a reserve. 

"You tell me," Hooch had said, her yellow eyes flashing, "Lars Lonnegan, Fifth year Reserve or Harry Potter, Sixth year star Seeker. You love this team: who would_ you_ want to take care of things?" 

So that is how Harry came to join his place amongst the other House Captains, who all congratulated Harry on his new position. (With the exception of Montague, the Slyhterin Captain, of course). There were five critical positions left that needed to be filled, and there were at least twenty Gryffindor volunteers lined up. Harry groaned: this was going to be a laborious. He put on a smile as he scanned faces of the assembled faces, but that smile soon faded. Ron had left _before_ Harry that morning, which was most confusing as Harry surveyed the prospective players and found Ron _wasn't_ amongst them. 

He studied his roll street. "What could possibly be keeping Ron?" 

"We'll have to start without him," said Hooch sadly. 

"Oh. What a pity," said Montague, the Slytherin Team Captain. 

Harry glared at Montague, but before he could lash out, he caught sight of a familiar tall, lanky, ginger haired figure appearing in the distance. 

Harry was relieved, but was somewhat scolding when he greeted his friend. "Where _were_ you, Ron?" 

"Waitin' for Herimone. She told me to wait in the courtyard for her so she could come with, but she never showed." He looked like a forlorn, forsaken, droopy-eyed puppy. 

Madame Hooch barked for Ron to stand next to Colin's brother in the line of Gryffindor volunteers. Ravenclaw captain Hudson Davies (Roger Davies' younger brother) surveyed their line, Hufflepuff captain Hugh Marsden followed suite, and Montague scrutinized the Slytherins like a drill sergeant! (Harry recognized two of the Slytherin volunteers since they tried out _every_ year for the team and had yet to make the cut.) 

Hooch divided up the players up into two teams and Harry stood next to her and Lars on the sidelines as the players took flight. His sharp eyes were watching Ron like a hawk. 

It wasn't long before Madame Hooch nudged Harry's arm and whispered slyly, "Hey . . . Weasley is really good." 

Harry nodded, not tearing his gaze from Ron. Sure, they'd all played Quidditch together lots of times, but Ron had been using the ancient Shooting Star models. He was a bit different on the Cleansweep Fives. His maneuvers were bold and fearless, just like Fred and George had been. The Slytherin chaser didn't stand a chance against him. Harry had to wonder how much better he'd be if he had a Firebolt . . . 

"What about Creevey," she prodded, "What do you think?" 

Dennis was proving to be tolerable as beater, but was positively overshadowed by Ron. 

"I think . . . Ron is good enough to make up for Creevey." 

"I think you're right." 

Madame Hooch called the players down, and they all made a dive for the table spread of pumpkin juice that she had conjured for them. Ron's face was bright red and his hair looked dark brown from all the sweat. 

"_Well_," he implored, still a bit out of breath. "How did I do?" 

Harry couldn't help the smile. "Not bad, Ron. Not bad." He leaned forward and whispered, "we're going to have a wicked time beating Slytherin together." 

That night, Ron's smile had never been brighter. Hermione, for all her sternness, was genuinely excited that he'd made the team. None more so than Harry: he'd been truly worried about the team with their star Beaters gone. But having Ron in the air with him made him strangely confident -- just like having Sirius at Hogwarts made him feel that everything would be fine. 


	6. Chapter Six The Beaten

**Chapter Six: The Beaten**

  
It was probably the first time that students from all Hogwarts Houses were in agreement in their adulation for a teacher. Even Slytherin house couldn't relapse into shallow slamming of his robes as they had with Lupin-- Sirius was a sharp dresser! Professor Gray despised lecuturing and felt the students should have as much hands on experience as possible, so the classes consisted primarily of demonstrations and class discussions. He would sit on the edge of his desk, his left leg swinging casually over the side, talking to the students without the usual reserve or degree of a Professor-- and the students respected him immensely for it. He even started a classroom competition that became phenomenally successful: each student racked up points through the week (not for their houses, but for them) by answering questions and turning in homework, and the winner each week was awarded an automatic "A" on their weekly exam. You can bet the competition was fierce. 

Harry, of course, was thrilled at Sirius' second term success and was bursting with pride every time a student called Professor Gray their favorite. He even caught whispers here and there from the faculty about Gray's 'uncanny way with the students.' Dumbledore had never been more pleased. And Snape . . .well, let's just say that as the proverbial least favorite of the students, Snape had nothing to say on the matter save for a lot of scowls and frowns. The rest of the faculty, however, appeared to be just as enamored with Gray's winning formula as the students were. (Specifically Professor Sinistra, Harry's astronomy teacher, who just about swooned every evening at dinner since she was seated directly next to him.) Professor Flitwick, even, made attempts to copy the technique: his first lesson was teaching a charm called _Abeos_-- shrinking charms-- and had great success when he asked students up to the front of the class to be the receiving end of the charm! 

Of almost equal excitement was Harry and Hermione's fast approaching first Apparition class at the Ministry. Harry tried to remain subdued about the matter with Hermione, not wanting to admit that he was every bit as excited as she was about it, but it was no use. Especially when they awoke to a brilliant, bright Sunday morning. They met in the common room, satchels over their shoulders, and hurried to Professor McGonagall's office. 

Of course she'd been waiting for them and after a quick 'good morning' she reached for a pewter bowl (the color of which complimented her gray robes) and held it out to Harry and Hermione. Despite his excitement, Harry couldn't help but grimace as he reached into the bowl and took a handfull of the floo powder. Traveling via floo powder was right up there with Potions finals in his book, but he knew the destination would be worth it. McGonagall showed them to the large fireplace in her office, and Harry stepped inside, closing his eyes tightly, not wanting to see what the next few moments would bring. 

"_Ministry of Magic," _he enunciated loudly, threw down the powder, and was instantly engulfed in thick green smoke. 

** 

Just behind the Tower of London, on a rather ugly industrial alley around the corner from the Tower bridge, lay the Ministry of Magic. To Muggle eyes it was just another nondescript warehouse on another dingy London alleyway. But to Harry and Hermione, it was absolutely beautiful. 

The Ministry was a large, fortress-like building, which is why it fit in so nicely being located next to the ancient Tower. It stretched for most of the block, rising tall and proud with enormous windows that looked out onto the Muggle-infested alley -- Muggles who hadn't a clue as to just what that strange, condemned warehouse really was. It wasn't as old as the Tower of London, so Hermione informed him, being built in the mid 1500s with the election of Wizardkind's first Minister, Altunas Mallory. Thus, Tudor furnishings greeted them when they walked inside-- the creaky, dark wood floors, high beamed ceiling and richly framed portraits of men in ruffs and ladies with farthingales. (Harry was immediately struck by a portrait of a man with a pointed beard and crisp starched ruff playing a lute to the portrait next to him who kept sighing and blushing). 

It was the most impressive place Harry had ever stepped into (aside from Hogwarts of course). 

"This way," said McGonagall. 

They walked down the main hallway-- the roof stretched high above them and great hanging tapestries lined the walls. This hallway smelled of time and Harry could feel it around him-- centuries of strength and fortitude. So many other footsteps had walked these halls before him-- such important men that he suddenly felt tiny and unimportant. 

In front of them was a high desk made of deep mahogany. A plump witch with a cherry red nose looked up from her spectacles and paperwork at the sound of the approaching visitors. 

"_Minerva_!' 

In an instant she was out from behind her desk and at their side. 

"Velma!" Professor McGonagall's general reserve was forgotten upon sight of this contagiously cheerful woman. Minerva's normally skeptical eyes were bright-- her smile magnetic and she suddenly looked several years younger (if not decades)! 

They were embracing. "What a wonderful surprise! Oh Minerva, it's been entirely too long! My goodness, it's been--" 

"-- at least six years! Last time I saw you was at the Witches Riding League Christmas Party!" 

Velma put her hand to her mouth. "Oh my, you're right! And I seem to remember trying to convince someone not to have that fourth bottle of ale--" 

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "It was _butterbeer_. . ." 

"--oh, but weren't you a _riot_! Remember? You led us all in a chorus of _Auld Lang Syne_ so raucous that the Ministry appeared to break up all the commotion!" 

"_Velma_," said McGonagall sternly. "Allow me to introduce you to my _students_ . . ." 

Velma coughed and subdued her smiles. "_Oh_! Oh, I see! Er . . ." she held out her hand. "I'm Velma Sverlow, how do you do?" 

Hermione shook hands firmly, "I'm Hermione." 

Harry did the same. "And I'm Harry." 

Velma's mouth fell. "Oh! But. . . but you're Harry _Potter_!" She grabbed his hand and shook it forcefully. "_Delighted_, my dear fellow, positively delighted." 

"Miss Granger and Mr. Potter are here to attend the Ministry's Apparition classes." 

"Indeed? Splendid! This way, then. Follow me! My, how he looks like his father, doesn't he Minerva? Not tall like James was, but then again Lily was rather small. My, the resemblance is uncanny. . ." 

Velma led them up a narrow, winding staircase of bathstone steps, lit only by smoldering candles. After at least three flights, they entered out into a simply regal hall-- spacious with a high dome, frescoed ceiling of bright renaissance blues and greens. Their heels clicked loudly on the wood floor, every sound they made bouncing off the walls. In the center of the room were long tables, much like the ones in Hogwarts classrooms, and a large blackboard at the far end of the hall. 

"You're a bit early," Velma was saying. "Either that or everyone else is running late." 

"Never running late, just . . . arriving in fashion!" 

Harry turned to see a woman with long, platinum hair stride into the room. 

"_Professor Warwick_," Harry and Hermione cried. 

"Well, well!" She was beaming. "And look who's here!" She walked over to them and greeted them both with a quick hug. "Hermione, you're looking _lovely_. And _Harry_! My, what a handsome devil you're turning out to be! Oh, indeed it is wonderful to see you both again." 

Harry was blushing. 

"And you'll be taking this course, will you? Fantastic! My two favorite Hogwarts students here to support my new foray in the teaching profession." 

"If it comforts you any," said Hermione, "I think that all of the kids back at school would rather have had you stay on as Potions master than having Snape come back." 

Professor Warwick smiled softly. "Oh how you do run on, Miss Granger! Severus is probably the best potions master Hogwarts has ever had. I only hope that I'll be half the teacher he is." 

"You already are," said Hemione seriously. 

"Ah, never too early to start buttering up the Professor, that's for sure. But enough of that talk, here, let me give you your textbooks. And you've brought your supplies? Good . . ." 

"Professor Warwick," said McGonagall, "if everything is ready, then I'll be leaving." 

"You're going back to Hogwarts?" asked Hermione. 

"Great Merlin, child, nonsense. I adore London -- always have-- and am quite content doing my paper work from here. There is a delightful library in the courtyard-- I'll be there if you have any need of me. Good day, Ariah." 

"Good Day, Minerva." 

Professor McGonagall left the room, just as the rest of the Apparition students began walking in. Harry and Hermione took their seats next to each other at the front of the class (this at Hermione's insistance) and their table was soon joined by three older, wiry haired wizards. To call the makeup of the classroom eclectic would be a vast understatement: wizards and witches of every shape, size and color had assembled in the room. Plump, gaunt, ivory skinned, ebony skinned, blue eyed, green eyed, black-eyed (literally) and just about everything in between. 

Their Apparition Texbook was the thickest they had ever seen. Harry's heart sunk somewhat to find it written in near microscopic print and filled with charts and diagrams-- not exactly riveting entertainment, to be sure. 

Hermione Granger was in her element. 

By the end of the day, Harry was mentally drained. He'd always loved Professor Warwick's teaching, but it took a lot of effort for him to interest himself in her words. Hermione seemed to have had no difficulty and spouted off to Professor McGonagall all the "fascinating" things they'd learned as they approached a Ministry fireplace to return home. 

Interesting how a day of non-physical activity can really work up an appetite. Harry was positively _ravenous_ when they reached Hogwarts again-- thankfully just within moments of Supper time. Ron was eager to hear all about their day, and Hermione narrated the days events to him as they walked down to the Great Hall. 

"Hey-- where's Seamus?" Harry stared at the Gryffindor table and there was an empty space where Seamus usually sat. 

Dean looked angry. "Madame Pomfreys." 

"_What_? Why?" 

"Malfoy," Ron hissed. "Today after breakfast, we were all out at the Pitch, having a quick game of Quidditch._ Minding our own business._ Then _Malfoy_ shows up with Scab and Boil and has the gaul to ask to join in--" 

"They did that on purpose," said Dean bitterly. "They knew we'd say no so they'd have a reason to start a fight." 

"Which is exactly what happened," said Ron. "And when Malfoy called Seamus a mudblood, well, you know Seamus' temper. He threw a punch right at Malfoy's face--" 

"Really?" cried Harry, delighted at the very idea. 

"-- and missed." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah. So Malfoy, that stupid, lanky git, pulls out his wand--" 

"--and so did Seamus, but Malfoy was quicker--" 

"--and Malfoy tries to put that Abeos charm on him--" 

"--but of course he's such a twat that he messes it up and instead of just shrinking Seamus--" 

"--suddenly there's Seamus on the grass in a nappy--" 

"-- a bleedin' _one_ year old!" 

Hermione gasped and Harry's mouth fell. "You're _joking_!" 

"Certainly not," said Ron. "I had to carry him up to Madame Pomfreys-- she about had a heart attack when she saw it." 

"He'll-- he'll be okay, right?" 

"Madame Pomfrey says that it'll take a couple days to reverse the aging process, but he'll be back to his normal self by midweek." 

Harry shook his head. "Can't believe it. What a complete _tosser_ that Malfoy is. . ." 

Neville looked hurt. "I know. And he's been prancing about campus all day, just as proud as he can be." 

"Don't worry," said Ron, "we're gonna get Malfoy back." 

"_Good_," said Hermione instensely, "And Dean and I will pretend that we never heard you say that." 

Seamus was an incredibly good sport about everything. He walked into the great hall for breakfast on Wednesday morning with a smile on his face-- helped by the fact that the Gryffindors broke out into applause upon his arrival. 

"Just bloody lucky we have Madame Pomfrey around," he said, as he ate a hearty helping of porridge, "don't reckon it would have been much fun learning to walk all over again." 

They walked to potions together, keenly aware of the Slyhterins sniggers and laughter as Seamus walked past them, but choosing to ignore it. Besides, there was something in the calmness of both Seamus and Ron that told Harry they had something up their sleeves. 

And sure enough, they did! 

Potions was half over and Snape had left the students alone to perfect a new dreaming draft. It was an error on Snape's behalf: he should have known better than to leave the students to themselves when a Gryffindor retaliation was almost _expected_. 

Nothing happened until class was over. The Gryffindors had cleaned up their cauldrons and were on their way out of the dungeon, making their way to the starcase to go up for class with Professor Gray. 

"_Finnegan! You **bastard**!" _

Harry spun around to see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle running out of the potions dungeon, bearing down the corridor towards them: completely green. Their skin was green, their fingernails were green, their eyebrows, eyelashes, robes, shoes-- everything had turned a bright lime green! 

The Gryffindors burst into laughter. 

"Hello, Malfoy," said Seamus cordially, grinning at them. "Not feeling well? You don't quite look yourself today. . ." 

Malfoy was fuming, his green mouth was thin and cross, and his green fists were clenched. "_You are gonna pay for this! _You and Weasley _both_!" 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," said Ron. "But if I were you I'd pay more attention to your formulas! Look what you did to yourselves!" 

"_You did this! You know you did this!" _

By now, an entire crowd had gathered around them in the hall, laughing and pointing at Malfoy. Snape had come out of the dungeon and was approaching the commotion briskly, not at all amused. 

Harry was still smiling. "Oh come off it, Malfoy. You've done worse." 

Draco stared at Harry-- something wicked was brewing behind those eyes. (Green ones at that!) 

"Potter! Weasley! Just the two I was looking for!" 

Harry turned to see Sirius walking down the staircase, robes flowing behind him. "I was hoping to catch you two before class starts-- could you two come with me quickly? I want you to help set up an experiment that I'm planning . . ." he stopped upon sight of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. "Oh. . . er . . ." he coughed back his laughter, "what's all this?" 

"_That_," said Snape, who was now at their side, "is _precisely_ what I am hoping to find out." 

"Ahhh," said Malfoy with a strange smile, "Professor Gray. Here we are-- one big happy family. Our_ beloved_ Professor Gray. But I wonder if we would be quite so fond of him if we all knew him by his _real_ name. . ." 

The hall grew quiet, all eyes upon Malfoy in quiet suspense. 

Horror swept over Harry as he began to remember last term: Their class trip in the Caledonian Forest was interrupted with Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy had pulled a prank on the Gryffindor tents in the middle of the night. The commotion had apparently brought on an attack of the campsite by the monstrous Moorish Syads. The last Harry had seen of Sirius had been when Sirius wrestled one of the beasts away from Malfoy, saving his life, and the beast sunk its terrible teeth into Sirius' leg. Harry, Ron and Draco had been whisked away to safety by Snape, but Harry was consumed with worry over his Godfather's welfare as her remembered: 

_"This whole thing is your fault, Malfoy! Ariah told me earlier today that Syads are blind to everything except sound and movement. She says we would have proably been fine if you hadn't turned the campsite into a riot! And now I've probably lost Sirius--" _

"Harry, Sirius is gonna be fine. He'll be waiting for you when we get back home." 

"S-Sirius? Y-you mean to say that Professor Gray is really Sirius B-Black?" 

"Yes, Malfoy. He also happens to be Harry's Godfather and I for one can't understand why he even bothered to save your life! He should have left you to the Syads! Better you than him!" 

How vivid that conversation was now, even though at the time, neither Harry nor Ron had thought anything of it. Harry had_ never _thought it would have led to this . . . 

Harry started to sweat, "_Malfoy_. . ." 

"Oh, no one knows, do they Potter? No one knows who Professor Gray really is?" 

_No! He can't! It isn't possible! Even for Malfoy, he can't do this . . . _

But deep down inside Harry knew that Malfoy could. And he would. 

Sirius stiffened, his eyes searching Malfoy, trying desperately to conceal their fright. "Mr. Malfoy, let us not crowd the corridors--" 

"Go on, Professor. Tell them. They have a right to know." Draco approached Sirius, eyeing him coldly. "Or shall I do it for you?" 

Not a breath was taken amongst the students. 

"Brilliant disguise, Professor. You look nothing like you did when you escaped from Azkaban. The fat lady doesn't even recognize you and you are the reason that she still has nightmares so often. Remember that, Professor Gray? Or should we call you Professor. . . _Black_?" 

The words were so horrific that they left Harry momentarily stunned-- numbed. Unable to comprehend the infinite malevolence of those words _or_ the malevolence of the one who had uttered them. 

The students faces were torn with disbelief and fright. The very notion was ludicrous-- Professor _Gray_ was really Sirius _Black_? Absurd! No one-- not even a _Malfoy _would joke about something as serious as that. And _that _was the precise reason that the seed of question was taking root. 

Snape's face betrayed nothing, as usual, although Harry had _definitely _seen him flinch with Malfoy's words. 

"That is enough, Mr. Malfoy." 

Draco shot him a deathly stare which Snape quite willingly returned. 

"Don't be daft," Seamus Finnegan said, laughing nervously. "Professor Gray _can't _be Sirius Black!" But Seamus was staring at Professor Gray much differently now. 

Malfoy folded his arms. "Since when is_ anything _the way it seems?" 

And then, to heighten Harry's alarm, whispers started in amongst the students. 

And Harry knew that Draco had won. 

Sirius himself remained perfectly still, standing tall and proud. But the look in Sirius' eyes told Harry that even he knew Malfoy had won. 

"What's all this?" Dumbledore was approaching swiftly, with a look of such concern-- even anger-- that it was obvious he knew _exactly _what was going on. He stared at Draco, who stepped backwards into Crabbe under the ferocity of that gaze. 

"Nothing, Sir. I'm just bringing out what should never have been covered over in the first place." 

Dumbledore was willing to play the game. "And what is that, Mr. Malfoy?" 

Draco cleared his throat. "Th-that Professor Gray is really Sirius Black. I know it because Potter and Weasley and Professor Snape told me so last term!" 

Harry was intensely watching every last move that Dumbledore made. He caught a quick glance at Ron and Hermione and they were doing the same thing. 

"Ah," said Dumbledore wisely, "so Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley chose to entrust you with a secret? I wasn't aware you were such good friends." 

Harry caught a ghost of a smile at Snape's lips-- the feeling was mutual! Dumbledore knew precisely what he was doing. 

"Mr. Malfoy, I certainly thank you for your concern, however it might suite you better to remember that perhaps you do _not _know everything and that such an accusation as the one you have just made should be ready to be backed up by viable fact and_ not_ on hearsay." Dumbledore's eyes were still burning in their seriousness. "This way, Professor Gray, Professor Snape. My office, please. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter? You two as well." 

Hermione was clutching Ron's arm and they stared at Harry, looking terrified and positively ill with worry. It was surely the same way that Harry looked. 

The four followed Professor Dumbledore up the staircase in complete silence, the whispers behind them sending a shiver down Harry's spine. And the fact that Draco Malfoy was actually walking_ close _to him was enough to make Harry want to vomit. Preferably all over Malfoy . . . 

Soon they were at the Gargoyle entrance to Dumbledore's office and he hurried them inside. He was _not_ pleased. 

"Well, my little green friend, it would seem that you have opened a Pandora's Box of sorts." Dumbledore took a seat at his desk, stroking his long white beard. "Which, I have no doubt, was precisely your intention." 

Draco's head was held high, just as his fathers' always was. Harry was visited with a pleasant thought of Malfoy as a garden gnome and what a grand time it would be to grab him by his ankles and chuck him as far as he could. . . 

Professor Snape stepped forward. "If I may, Sir, it is most unfortunate, what Malfoy has done, but one could hardly argue that it was _inevitable._" 

The door burst open at that moment and in stormed Hagrid. "It's all over the school, sir! The kids are actually believin' it!" 

"Well it_ is _the truth," said Draco smugly. 

That was it. Harry snapped. 

"Ever stop to think,_ Malfoy_, that maybe Sirius is here because of those students that you've just turned against him? To help protect them from the_ real _criminals in this world--" 

"That's enough Harry," said Dumbledore mildly. 

"-- criminals like_ your father_!" 

If Draco hadn't been lime green, his face would have surely been bright red. "A father who at least had enough sense to _not_ get himself blown up _un_like some!" 

"_Murdered_ it what it was, and I would rather my father fight and give his life for what's right than cower in fear behind a hood like yours--" 

"How _dare_ you talk about my father--" 

"--and how dare you talk about mine! I thought that _maybe _there was a chance you were different than your father-- that there was some hope for you, but now you've shown yourself to be just as much a bloody coward as he is, if not moreso--" 

"_Harry!_" 

Dumbledore's voice silenced them both. The two rivals kept their gaze on each other, and Harry finally tore it away. He caught sight of Sirius who had removed his glasses and gave him weary smile. 

"Angry words cannot fix the past, nor can they aid the present." Dumbledore sighed. He took out a quill and began writing something down on a piece of parchment, still talking. "The damage has been done and Severus is quite correct that if not by Malfoy then by some other force, your identity would eventually be revealed, Sirius." 

Sirius nodded. And then he spoke, his voice hestiant. "Sir . . will this mean. . ." 

"Your return to Azkaban?" 

Harry's knees nearly gave out from under him. "_WHAT_?" 

Dumbledore paused in his writing and looked up at Sirius, slowly removing his spectacles. "_That,_ I assure you, is not an option, my dear Mr. Black." 

Harry smiled and threw a look of relief at Sirius. He turned to Snape-- of course, Snape wasn't smiling or frowning, but his coal black eyes were_ softer_ than they usually were which betrayed the possibility that he_ did _actually care. 

"Hagrid, see that this message is sent via Urgent Owl to Cornelius Fudge. We will need to sort this out together, I'm afraid. In the mean time, I will tell the students that all is perfectly well and their safety is assured. And Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore eyed him and Draco backed away, "I trust that nothing of this nature will ever come up again. Will it?" 

Harry was frowning at Draco, who finally nodded a quick 'yes.' 

"And Sirius . . . you understand that I cannot have you return to class." 

Sirius inhaled deeply to calm himself and he nodded in agreement. 

Dumbledore sighed again. "Old Fudge is simply going to love this." 

Fudge arrived by lunchtime and Harry was called out of Transfiguration, amid questioning eyes and more whispers, to go back up to Dumbledore's office. He arrived in the office to find Sirius sitting next to Professor Snape and Hagrid in the corner of the room. Cornelius Fudge was seated at Dumbledore's desk. He was looking most disagreeable, his round face red and wrinkled in distaste, and he was currently running his porky fingers through whatever white hair he had left. 

"Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You're just in time. I was in the process of explaining to Minister Fudge that having Sirius Black on campus was indeed acting in the best interest of all the students." 

"Absolutely," said Harry. "Hogwarts was never safer." 

"The _point_, Albus, is that _you _have been employing and escaped convict--" 

"_Who-is-innocent_," Harry spat. 

"--who has been _convicted _of murder. Thirteen, as a matter of fact. In both Wizarding _and_ Muggle worlds. Now, even if Black is as harmless as a fly, his record _cannot_ be ignored. I expected better judgement on your part, Albus. You _deliberately _flouted the Ministry and, might I remind you, were you anyone else, serious charges would be brought against you." 

"Right," said Harry, "Brilliant, Sir. Have him removed that way a school govenor like Lucius Malfoy can take over things. If you can have a Death Eater on the school board, then we can have an innocent escaped convict on campus!" 

Dumbledore smiled. "We should all have the innocent logic of a sixteen year old." 

Fudge was still speaking, "Lucius' name has been cleared of all charges, young Mr. Potter. _Unlike_ Mr. Black. As the Minister of Magic, I cannot allow a convicted fellon at such an institution simply because you say 'it's fair.'" 

"Minister Fudge?" It was Professor Snape, standing up from his chair. "I can say without any reservation that the students here are perfectly safe with Black here on campus. You well know my loyalty to this school and I would not stand for anything less." 

"Aye," said Hagrid, joining his side, "and we _need_ 'im! Don't like what I'm hearin' from the giants these days, no siree. We need people like him 'round here!" 

Fudge looked tired. "Again, there is no evidence of Black's innocence other than your word. And while it is good enough for some, it will not stand up in court." 

Harry fought to keep his mouth shut, but it was no use. "No thanks to a certain someone who _killed _the one witness who could have set the entire thing straight." 

_Harry . . . you probably shouldn't have said that to the Minister of Magic . . ._ And why not? It was true! 

Fudge blinked at Harry and then turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "_That_ is not the issue. Albus, I will see to it that Black is not turned in to Azkaban. I will ensure that the Prophet reports the entire situation to be a hoax and that Hogwarts is perfectly safe and extends it deepest apologies for any anxiety the rumor may have caused." 

"Minister Fudge?" 

Fudge turned around and found Sirius Black standing before him. His voice was soft and tremulous. "Do you believe me, Sir? Do you believe that I am innocent?" 

Fudge was quiet for a very long time. 

"I've known you and Severus since your youths. Your . . ._ distaste,_ shall we call it, for each other is legend. And for Severus to sit here next to you and speak in your behalf-- there must be truth to it." 

"Cornelius," said Dumbledore, "I should like to arrange for a decent dwelling for Mr. Black. In a government that stands for justice, the injustice he has suffered it quite beyond comprehension. As any falsely accused can tell you-- right Hagrid?" 

Fudge was caught! He'd been the reason of Hagrid's unfair imprisonment to Azkaban and the same was true of Sirius. 

"A place that is secure and safe-- he hasn't had a real place to call home in sixteen years." 

Fudge sighed. "Very well." 

That seemed to please Dumbledore and he smiled at Harry. "That will do, Harry. Thank you. I must speak with Fudge privately now, and I believe that you are wanted in Charms." 

Harry nodded slowly and turned to face Sirius again. He hesitated and then flung himself onto him, hugging him tightly. Sirius calmly pat Harry's back and said quietly, "None of that. Come now, Harry, none of that." 

Harry took a step back and looked up at his Godfather, teary eyed. "I'm going to miss you, Sirius." 

"Ah, well, no need to be sad. I won't be far away." Sirius sounded as though he were trying to convince _himself_ more than Harry. He was vying to keep his voice steady, but still faltered. "You know that I will never be far away from you, my boy." 

Sirius was saying goodbye, and Harry knew it. Not knowing what else to say, he turned away from his Godfather and drug his feet out of the office and back out into the empty corridor. The silence made Harry one step closer to giving way to tears. He shuffled down to Professor Flitwick's classroom, which was deep into study, and took his seat. His nerves were frayed and he was in perfect shock. 

Ron and Hermione smiled supportively, but even that was no use. 

"Reckon it's him?" It was Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan nudging Harry's arm. "I mean-- could it really be _the_ Sirius Black?" 

"Right, Ernie. And I'm the Heir of Slytherin, remember?" 

Ron coughed back a laugh and Ernie looked stunned. 

"Cor Harry," said Hannah Abbot, "what's with the sulk you've got on?" 

"Just had a rough day, that's all," said Harry quickly, wanting to bury himself behind his charms book-or better still, run up to the dorms and close the door so that he could cry like he _really _wanted to. 

"Why'd you get called out of Transfiguration?" she prodded. 

Ron knew that Harry was on the edge and he cut in. "He would have_ told _you if it concerned you at all, Hannah Abbot." 

Hannah blinked and turned up her nose, muttering something under her breath that sounded like 'typical Gryffindors,' but at least no one bothered Harry for the rest of the class. 

They climbed up to Gryffindor tower, Ron and Hermione trying desperately to remain optimistic, but really, there wasn't much to be optimistic about. 

"Fudge isn't going to let him stay," said Harry. "He's leaving today." 

"Where's he going?" asked Hermione. 

"I don't know." 

They reached the Gryffindor entrance to find the Fat Lady stuffing the remnants of a strawberry tart into her mouth. 

"Pashward?" she said through her mouthful, brushing the crumbs off her pink gown. 

"Aubergene," said Ron quickly and they stepped inside to the Gryffindor common room. "I don't get it-- why didn't Fudge take Sirius back into custody if he made such a fuss about him being an escaped convict? It would have made Fudge look like a hero, having Black back in Azkaban-- something his career could really use right now." 

Harry shuddered at the thought, but Ron was entirely correct. It would have been a marvelous career opportunity for Fudge. _Why_ hadn't he done it? 

"I dunno. Dumbledore is looking after him," said Harry, "but . . . the point is . . . he's not going to _be here anymore._ Sure, Fudge and Dumbledore may have been able to smooth over the rumor and are gonna keep Sirius out of Azkaban, but . . . I dunno, it's just that. . . he's being taken away from me. Again." 

And the reason for it was staring him right in the face everywhere he turned. Now, Harry had always, of course, had less than amicable feelings towards Draco Malfoy, but it was now without a shadow of a doubt, a consuming, unadulterated, overpowering _hatred_ for him. 

The next morning at breakfast , Harry waited impatiently for the Prophet to arrive, halfway expecting the headlines wouldn't read: _**HOGWARTS HARBORS BLACK**_ or something like that. 

But it didn't . . . 

In fact the only mention of the rumor was a small bi-line at the bottom of the front page stating that Gray would no longer be a teacher at Hogwarts for "unexpected personal reasons". The rest of the front page was dedicated to something so horrible that it succeeded in turning Harry's thoughts away from Sirius and Malfoy: 

_**DARK MARK STRIKES AGAIN**_  
GLASGOW, Scotland. The Wizarding Community is this day mourning the loss of Mr. Giles Garring of Springburn, who for the past fifty-three years, owned and maintained a beloved Parchment and Quillery in Glasgow City. He was found dead yesterday afternoon in his store office. 

Garring, 78, had been complaining of severe headaches yesterday morning and sent his young apprentice, Gabriel Browne, 16, also of Springburn, to fetch a potion at the nearby Glasgow Apothecary to calm his headaches. Browne relates that by the time he returned with the draft, Garring was dead. 

"He was lying facedown in his office," Browne told authorities yesterday. "I noticed a funny smell in the store, so I went outdoors and sent an Urgent Owl to the Ministry of Magic." 

When Ministry officials arrived, they determined that Garring had died of an apparent poisoning due to his advanced state of decomposition. They then discovered a yellow envelope which contained the remains of a fine, brown powder-- the lethal, and illegal, "Alsace Dust". The envelope may have held as much as six grams of the substance-- which causes severe brain hemmoraging in its victims. Such a large amount of Alsace Dust would be more than enough to kill not just one person, but several. 

"If Mr. Garring hadn't sent me to buy that draft, I'd probably be dead too," said a distraught Browne. To worsen the situation, the envelope containing the killing powder displayed the insignia of the Dark Mark. 

Minister Fudge made the following statement yesterday evening: "There appears to be no reason or pattern to these killings. They are random and deliberate acts of murder and the Ministry will not stand for it. We shall see to the safety of the wizarding community by bringing these events to an end." 

Giles W. Garring was survived by his Muggle wife Eunice and their daughters Violet and Viola. Memorial services are to be held at Bishopbriggs Cemetray this Sunday. 

The Great Hall fell eerily silent-- it had rarely been so quiet. And then, for the second time in two days, the whispering began. 

"Three times," said Hermione quietly. "Unbelievable. Three times in three months that the Dark Mark has appeared." 

"Yesterday, Dumbledore said that he had to speak to Fudge privately-- I bet you that's what it was about." 

The rest of the Gryffindor table looked ghostly pale. "It makes me afraid for Gran," said Neville. "She's all alone in that house and we're not so very far from Glasgow." 

Harry turned around to see what the Slytherins' reactions were-- the table was generally subdued. Malfoy was reading the paper aloud to Crabbe and Goyle _Probably because those morons can't read_, thought Harry. He couldn't read Malfoy's expression, but it didn't matter-- the fact was that Malfoy's father had a direct hand in Giles Garring's murder. Even if he hadn't_ personally_ sent the envelope, he supported those who did and that was more than enough. 

The mood in the corridors that day was much the same as it had been at Diagon Alley: somber. Snape's class had rarely been as well behaved as it was that morning-- even the Slytherins were behaving themselves. Harry climbed the staircases to the second floor with Ron and Hermione, towards the defense against the dark arts classroom. 

Harry trudged in, absolutely _dreading_ it. That safe, warm, protective aura was gone-- it was now just a cold, stone walled classroom. No matter who their defense against the dark arts professor was, it couldn't replace Sirius nor ease the pain of Harry's loss. 

But it _could _render him speechless. 

Quite speechless. 

In fact, it could quite literally knock Harry over. 

Within the twinkling of an eye, Harry forgot all about Sirius and Malfoy and the Dark Mark in Glasgow. He didn't even feel like he was standing in a classroom-- no, he was someplace far different. A place that smelled like cabbage and was decorated with framed photographs of cats and huge knitted throw rugs and afgans. It simply _couldn't_ have been the dark arts classroom-- because not ten feet in front of him, unmistakable as day, was. . . 

_Mrs. Figg._


	7. Chapter Seven A Revelation and A Predic...

**Chapter Seven: A Revelation and a Prediction**

"Harry! You all right, mate?" 

Ron was holding Harry's arm tightly-- his entire body had simply collapsed and only Ron's quick reflexes kept him from falling onto the ground. 

But Ron's words were coming at Harry slowly and muffled, as though from a thousand miles away. And that's because Harry was still in that other place-- the unappealing home he'd spent so much time in as a boy with the woman who'd fed him freezer-burned ice cream and shared pictures of her her cats. The ancient woman with the round, wrinkly face and frazzled gray hair whom his Aunt and Uncle simply adored -- _Mrs. Figg. _

" . . . had a rough couple of days . . ." 

Someone was talking to him again. Harry slowly came back to the present-- Hermione was explaining his odd behavior to . . . to that woman. Ron was walking Harry to their usual seat at the desk. 

"Ah," said Mrs. Figg to Hermione, "I see." 

Harry was shell-shocked. She was _real--_ as real as she'd always been. Short, portly and dour-faced. She spoke normally and there was every indication that Harry was indeed_ not_ hallucinating. Except for the fact that _it was entirely impossible!_

"M-Mrs. F-Figg?" Harry was finally able to sputter out. 

She laughed. "Surprised, are we?" 

"Oh?" said Hermione, "you two know each other?" 

The short woman kept her keen blue eyes on Harry. "Just for the record, Harry, it's actually _Ms._ Figg. I've never been married. But I much prefer Professor Figg-- or better yet-- just plain Arabella." 

"How do you know her?" Harry could hear the confusion in Ron's voice, but couldn't pry his eyes off of the smiling old woman. 

"Er . . . sh-she used to baby-sit for me. . . sh-she livesup the _road_ from me! Aunt Petunia adores her!" 

Arabella was grinning. "Yes, yes, all quite true." 

"Hang on," said Ron slowly. Harry turned to see Ron's eyebrow raised. "You're . . ._ Arabella Figg?_" 

She bowed regally. 

"I've heard about you! But . . . I thought that you were . . . well. . ." 

"Mad?" she offered. 

"Well . . . yes!" 

She nodded, "Yes, living amongst Muggles will do that to you." 

Harry whipped around to Ron. "You've _heard _of her?" 

"Of course! 'Mad Old Ara--' er, that is . . . well. . . yes, I've heard of her." 

"B-but she's been my neighbor for as long as I've lived at Privet Drive! Ron, don't you remember me telling you about her? She used to feed me decades-old ice cream and make me look at all of her photo albums--" 

"_Oh_" Ron cried, "_This _is Mrs. Figg?!?" 

"Yes!" 

"Bloody hell!" 

Ron and Hermione were now staring at Mrs. Figg with the same sort of wide-eyed disbelief as Harry. By now, the rest of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were filing in to their seats and Ron and Hermione did the same. The students were all whispering excitedly at the presence of the new Professor. 

Harry was trying not to faint. 

Arabella Figg wrote her name in large thick letters on the blackboard and turned to face the class. (Ron whispered to Harry that he might want to close his mouth-- he was still gaping). 

"Hello, class. I know that everyone was beginning to get used to the idea of having a permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but dear Professor Gray has requested an indefinite leave of absence." 

The class broke out into more whispering and the Hufflepuff girls looked downright _devastated_. "I am taking his place, although I don't pretend that I can replace him. I understand that he was dearly loved here. . ." 

Vigorous nods of agreement. 

". . . and I hope that he _will_ return later this year, as he was a great asset to Hogwarts." 

Harry cracked a smile at her sweet words. 

"As you can see, my name is Arabella Figg and, I'm sure that for most of you, the question that you are wondering is . . ." she gave a pregnant pause. "why did they give this job to a Mad old woman like me." 

Slightly nervous chuckles. 

"Well, Dumbledore must have been desparate, I agree with you all, but actually I have taught Hogwarts classes before. If you can believe it, I was at one time a young woman, and I taught here for almost ten years. I was the Astronomy Professor, so I am most excited about taking on this class." 

Harry didn't hear much of her lecture. How could he? Everytime he looked at her dressed in her long dark purple robes and matching velvet hat, he was reminded of life back on Privet Drive. He remembered her dark purple afghans, he remembered Fluffy and Snowy and the rest her cats. He remembered Dudley knocking her over and he remembered the time she broke her leg when she tripped over one of her cats. . . that _same_ woman was now lecturing him on prominent dark wizards of the middle ages. 

If only Aunt Petunia could see her now! (For someone who had such a hatred for Wizards, she certainly spent a lot of time befriending them!) 

In what felt like the very next instant, the class was over and Arabella was assigning the homework. Ron and Hermione were heading out the door and Harry dawdled behind them, hoping for Arabella to ask him to stay behind. 

She was clearing her desk and the next class was already coming in. She looked up and found Harry standing still, staring at her. 

She winked. "See you tomorrow, Harry." 

The shock had left Harry numb-- he couldn't even feel his feet as he walked up towards the Gryffindor common room. In the few hours before supper, the Gryffindors lounged around the room, supposedly working on their homework. But not even Hermione was really paying any attention to her textbooks-- there was much to much to talk about! All in one day: there had been another dark mark attack, they'd lost their favorite dark arts Professor and now had 'Mad Old Arabella Figg' as their new one. 

"I've heard she's a flippin' psychopath," Seamus was saying. "Mum says that about twenty years ago she was actually exiled from the Wizarding world and forced to live with Muggles as punishment." 

"Punishment?" Lavender Brown asked. "For what?" 

"Well . . . I dunno, exactly. But I do know that she had a terrible reputation-- always hung around Knockturn Alley and the like. Mum reckoned that for a while she probably even mingled with You Know Who--" 

"Seamus," said Hermione, "that's a big accusation, you know. Dumbledore obviously trusted her enough to work here!" 

"I know, I know. I'm just telling you-- dodgy, you know?" 

"I'm gonna miss Professor Gray," said Ginny quietly. "He was. . ." 

"_Dreamy_?" said Ron with a giggle. 

"_A nice bloke_," said Ginny defensively, sticking her tongue out at her brother. Parvati Patil laughed. "Yeah. . . but dreamy too." 

"It _is _unbelievable," said Dean. "We really thought the spell had finally been broken, but now I really _am _convinced that position is cursed! What do you suppose Professor Figg meant by "personal matters"?" 

Harry, Ron and Hermione kept absolutely silent. 

"I don't know," said Neville, "But Malfoy really scared me for a minute with that Sirius Black line." 

"Aye," said Seamus, "that mangy git. He _really_ must have been angry to pull a joke like _that_!" 

"He makes me sick to my stomach," said Ron dryly and then he hopped to his feet in the next instant. "Right! Hungry, anyone?" 

They Gryffindors went down to supper, laughing at Ron and throwing out theories about Professor Gray-- except for Harry. He was confused about many things at the moment, but the one thing he_ did _know was that he certainly wasn't hungry. He waved Ron and Hermione to go on without him and he settled in a large, comfy armchair. The silcence of the usually clamarous common room was most soothing. 

Harry closed his eyes, dearly wanting to rest, but all he could think of was _her_ and how little he knew about his own life. Just when he thought he was getting a handle on the things in his life, something like this always came up! From the moment he entered the Wizarding world it had been a neverending roller coaster of surprises. From discovering that his Godfather was a falsely accused serial killer, to last year's revelation that he was the last living Heir of Godric Gryffindor and now this! His old baby-sitter-- a witch! 

He couldn't rest. 

Harry got to his feet and left the common room, hoping a long walk would do him some good. It was quiet in the corridors-- some of the portraits were talking softly to each other, but other than that, silence. He walked outside in the direction of the greenhouses. The moon was full and brilliant and Harry could see the silvery landscape perfectly under its light. 

"Good evening, Harry." 

Startled, Harry spun around to find Arabella standing behind him. The silver lighting of the moon made her hair and skin shine like pewter and it seemed to hide her age. 

"Mrs. Figg!" said Harry, that name feeling strange on his tounge. 

She bowed her head how-do-you-do and came to where Harry stood, smiling up at him. "Didn't see you at supper. What are you doing out here all by yourself?" 

He shrugged. 

"Well . . . care to take a walk with a lonely old woman?" 

As if she had to ask! They walked slowly across the thick, cool grass. 

"There were so many times that I wanted to tell you, Harry. Especially during the last few years-- I've been positively _aching _to tell you." She laughed. "And I'd just like to apologize about the frozen ice cream-- never having much of a taste for the confection myself, I kept it only in case I had to child mind." 

"It's okay. Really. Before I came to Hogwarts, you were the only person who was kind to me." 

"I rather got the impression you weren't terribly fond of me." 

Harry had to laugh. "I can't lie-- no, I wasn't. But ten year olds aren't usually fond of being shown pictures of cats. But you _did_ let me watch the telly!" 

"Well, I never had any children of my own-- and I knew_ nothing _of what Muggle little boys did for fun. If I'd been allowed to use magic, I could have shown you a grand time. But I was under strict orders not to: the Ministry watched my home like a hawk." 

"Why?" 

"Muggles believed that I was just like them and I was the Ministry's_only _way of keeping tabs on you. The fact that Vernon and Petunia took a_ liking _to me was an added bonus-- and then they started asking me to child-mind and I coulkdn't have been happier." Her smile faded slightly. "I knew just how horrific those Dursleys were to you, Harry. And that _Dudley_! Oh, what a_terror_!" 

Harry sprang to Dudley's defense. "Oh, Dudley's all right. He's changed a lot!" 

"And thankfully so. But I still remember how horrible they were to you. Even trying to keep you from going to Hogwarts-- I had to have Dumbledore send Hagrid ASAP!" 

_Ahhh. So that's how it happened . . ._

"It's been difficult living so close to you yet being unable to be a part of your life as I so wanted to be." She sighed, her eyes suddenly distant. "I adored your father and mother. And I'd been friends of James' parents years ago when I worked at Hogwarts--" 

Harry stopped in his tracks. "My Grandparents? You knew my Grandparents?" 

"Oh heavens, yes! George and Gwendolyn--_ wonderful_ people! Gwendolyn and I . . . weren't the best of friends at first. You see, I used to teach at Hogwarts, ah me, a lifetime ago it seems. I was young and thought I knew it all-- I was the youngest Professor the school ever employed, actually. Only twenty-one. I used to but-heads with the older crowd quite regularly. Especially dear Albus-- oh, how he and I used to fight like cats and dogs!" 

"When did you teach there?" 

"It was . . . the late forties, I believe. I started teaching in 1945-- your Grandmum was a third year and your Grandfatehr was a sixth year." Arabella smiled. "apparently George rather fancied me then-- which is only normal for a schoolboy when their teacher is young, not exactly bad looking _and_ within an attainable own age group." 

"Uh-oh!" said Harry with a laugh. 

"Yes, I'm certain that's why Hogwarts doesn't employ twenty-somethings anymore. Gwendolyn despised me: she was postively in love with George. As head of Slytherin house, I had fun taking points from her everytime she called me a you know what." 

Harry stopped in his tracks. "_You're a Slytherin_?" 

"Yes, but don't hold that against me." 

He laughed. "It's just-- every Slytherin I know is a bit . . ." 

"I know. And so was I. The Gryffindors hated me-- well, the Gryffindor _girls_ hated me. The Gryffindor boys only _said _they hated me. Come to think of it, I did tend to take more points from girls than boys. . ." 

"Mrs. Figg! You're horrible!" 

"I know!" she was laughing too. "And I knew it then! I was just young and silly. Albus was always lecturing me and, oh dear, our arguments were _fierce_. It earned me a reputation: all the Slytherin boys adored me. Half the Hogwarts boys thought I was 'a diamond in the rough' the other half thought I was 'misunderstood' and _all_ of the girls wanted me dead. Even the Slytherin girls joined their fellow houses on it." Her expression darkened sharply. "I should have listened to Dumbledore. . .about my habit of making favorites . . . he warned me about Riddle." 

Harry gasped. "_Voldemort_?!?" 

"Oh yes. Tom Riddle was a pet student of mine. I admit, I was blinded by his sensitive nature and his _brilliant_ mind. My first years at Hogwarts I couldn't stop speaking about him. Dumbledore was alwous so cross with Tom. He'd tell me there was something wrong about him. Tom would come to my office and moan to me about how no matter how hard he tried, Dumbledore just wouldn't warm up to him. He would cry and tell me about the horrible things that the other students would say-- he _hated _being called a 'mudblood'," she paused, "he was an orphan you know." 

"oh yes, I know." 

". . .he'd cry about the orphanagge and what terrible things happened there. . . he made me feel so_ sorry _for him." Arabella sighed. "I loved that kid-- had such _high hopes_ for him and was fiercely defensive whenever Dumbledore spoke ill of him. I think he rather viewed me as a mother figure, Tom did." Another sigh. "I had no idea how wrong I was. During his fifth year, the chamber of secrets was opened here. Gwendolyn was a half blood, and ended up petrified. Then little Myrtle Millwood was killed and we were threatened with closing the school. It was a horrific time. . ." 

Harry well understood what she meant. After all, he'd gone through the same thing not so very long ago. 

". . . It was the first time that Albus and I saw eye to eye. We had to find the culprit. That was the only thing that mattered to either of us: saving the school. And then up popped young Riddle with Hagrid. I'll never forget the day he came running into Headmaster Dippet's office. Albus and I were assembled in a meeting and he came bursting into the room, out of breath his black hair falling in his eyes. . ." she paused, "just like yours always does, Harry. . ." 

Harry grimaced. 

". . . he was saying over and over again how he'd found him. He'd found the monster behind the attacks. It was at first such wonderful news. _That's my boy_, I remember thinking proudly. And then when he led us to Rubeus . . ." she shook her head. "I knew something was wrong. True, Rubeus had a penchant for befriending dangerous animals, but Hagrid's loyalty was to Hogwarts first and foremost and always. Keeping a pet that would threaten its closure was completely ludicrous. But only Albus and I saw this! It was enough for Headmaster Dippet and he had Rubeus expelled. Now, I may be a Slytherin, but I liked Hagrid. That Valentines Day during the peak of the crisis on campus, he'd sent me a Valentine and I'll never forget it: _Roses are red, violets are blue. The heavens are pretty, but not nearly as you. Are._" 

Harry laughed-- it sounded precisely like a Valentine Hagrid would send. Horrific in its eloquence, but matchless in its' sincerity. 

Arabella was laughing as well. "I still have that around the house somewhere, actually. But I have the utmost respect for Hagrid even to this day, as does Albus. And when Tom put the blame on him. . . I became suspicious. I didn't believe it for a second and I never looked at him the same way after that." 

She shook her head and then smiled at Harry again. "I've been wrong about a great number of things in my life. I was wrong about your Grandmum as well!" 

Harry smiled. "What was she like?" 

"Gwendolyn? A sweeter soul I've yet to meet, to this day. I still feel guilty about tormenting her at Hogwarts. After she'd graduated and I 'd left teaching at Hogwarts, we met up by chance and . . . got along frightfully well. When Geroge graduated, he and I actually did make a go at a relationship," she laughed, "relationships never were my specialty. So I basically re-introduced George and Gwendolyn and . . . well, of course, the rest is quite obvious." 

Harry couldn't help himself. "Some of the kids are saying that you used to be in with Voldemort." 

Arabella stopped sharply and stared up at Harry-- for a minute Harry was frightened! She looked angry and Harry immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut. "Only believe half of what you read and even less of what you hear, Harry. I admit my reputation isn't exactly exemplary, but in a lifetime of eighty-two years, having made mistakes is only natural." 

Harry really wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Here he'd just spent all of yesterday angry with the students for so easily believing what Malfoy had said about Professor Gray, and here he was acting the same way to Mrs. Figg. 

"So . . . why exactly have you been living up the road from me all these years?" 

She smiled. "Now there's a leading question if I've ever heard one! Sixteen years ago, I decided it was time for me to retire. I bought a nice home in Surrey. And then everything happened with your Mum and Dad and you were sent to live with your Aunt and Uncle who lived down the road from me! So, the ministry decided to use me to monitor you as you grew up." She playfully messed Harry's thick raven hair. "And you've turned out admirably, my boy." 

Harry blushed. 

"But no, let's not talk of me. I want to know all about you! Quite the popular one around here, aren't you! And Gryffindor's star Seeker, so I understand. I know your father was a Chaser, but George was a Gryffindor Seeker as well! Damn fine one too! Can't wait to see you play!" 

"But you're a Slytherin," said Harry with a laugh. "You can't support _my _team!" 

She winked at him. "Believe me: if it involves putting a Malfoy in their place, then I am right there with you." 

They bade their adieus quite soon afterward, and Harry, remembering well all of the secret passageways on his Marauders Map, took a short cut up to Gryffindor tower. 

Half of the dorms were already asleep, including Ron. (Ron was without a doubt the most comical sleeper: his legs were so long they draped off to the side and he slept with his mouth open against his pillow, snoring loudly.) Hedwig sat on Harry's bed in a stately manner and Harry went straight to her and scratched her head as she was expecting. Below her claws was a letter and Harry's heart lept. He gently scooted Hedwig away and his hopes were confirmed: 

_Harry: "I hope this letter finds you well! I hope you aren't spending your time worrying about me. Although I am very upset about having to leave Hogwarts, I can assure you that all is well. Dumbleodore has arranged for me to take up residence at a lovely home just outside of Hogsmeade, with someone who I believe you know: Remus Lupin!_

Harry lit up like he hadn't in two days! 

"_I knew that would put a smile on your face!_

Good old Sirius. 

_He sends along his love, of course. Remus has been doing quite well these past months. He has taken up a job working for Gringotts thanks to a favor from your friend Ron's brother, Bill. It's not entirely his preference, but it pays well. As Professor Gray, I am able to appear in public at times, although caution is always taken. _

"How are you enjoying your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Dumbledore told me who he was calling to take my place and I couldn't have been more pleased. It seems that you weren't aware of Arabella Figg's wizarding identity--I only wish I could have been there to see the look on your face. 

I must go now, but please write to me and let me know when your first visit to Hogsmeade is so that we can arrange a visit! 

Love, 

Sirius ~ 

Harry wrote back immediately: 

_Sirius: _

I am so relieved to know that you are OK. I have been worried sick these past two days but now I will be able to get a good night's sleep knowing that you are well. And the fact that you are staying with Remus Lupin is an extra treat! Tell him hello for me! 

You knew about Mrs. Figg being a witch? I'm the last to know everything around here. It is the strangest feeling having her on campus because I still see her as my child-minder! It's exciting, though, in a weird kind of way. But no one is going to compare to you-- you were everone's favorite. I think that our first Hogsmeade visit is at the end of the month, so we'll be able to see you soon! I can't wait! 

I miss you! 

Take care of yourself! 

Love,  
Harry 

"Wait Hedwig, I'm gonna give you a big job to do tonight." 

Harry pulled out two more parchments and addressed one to Dudley and one to Sophie. Harry knew that Dudley was going to be every bit as shocked about the revelation as Harry had been-- it would give the two something to talk about, and Harry was grateful to be able to talk about _anything _with Dudley. And Sophie. . . well, Sophie was the one person who just seemed to understand whatever Harry was feeling more than anyone else he'd ever known. 

* 

Dumbledore was beaming the next morning when he spied Harry walk into the great hall for breakfast. Harry folded his arms as Dumbledore flowed towards him and pretended to look cross. 

"You know, you _could _have told me about Mrs. Figg!" 

"And where would the fun in that have been?" He winked at Harry from overtop his spectacles and Harry couldn't help but let out a smile. Dumbledore's voice was decidedly quieter now, but his demeanor remained the same. "Your . . . Godfather has written you, I trust?" 

Harry nodded. 

"Excellent. Fudge has been much more . . . _cooperative_ lately. He was not entirely keen on the idea of your Godfather and Mr. Lupin staying together, but I convinced him it would be much better for the ministry in the long run," Dumbledore's voice dropped to a hush, "the Black case is the last thing the Ministry should be worrying about at this point." 

Harry couldn't agree more and told Dumbledore so. Professor Dumbledore nodded and departed regally, and Harry met up with Ron and Hermione at the breakfast table. No sooner had he sat down that Hermione popped up out of her seat. 

"Sorry you lot, there's a prefect meeting before class up in McGonagall's office!" She straightened her robe and Dean was doing the same. "See you all in class!" she said with a smile, kissed Ron quickly on the cheek. "C'mon Dean, we'll be late!" 

Dean jumped up and threw his napkin on the table and then the two flurried off down the hall. 

Ron was staring after them, not looking entirely thrilled. Harry nudged his shoulder, "oh come on mate, I know what you're thinking and you'd better stop it right now." 

Ron shook his head and returned to his bowl of porridge. 

Come lunchtime he was in decidedly higher spirits as Hermione didn't have to run off to any urgent meetings during the break. The general buzz at the table was, of course, about Professor Figg. The general concensus was that she was a capable Professor, nothing to complain about, but next to Black, anything was bound to pale. 

"Mail for you, Harry," said Ron dutifully as they finished their lunch. 

Harry was ecstatic to find that Sophie's response to his letter from the previous night-- _Wow, her Owl must be an incredible flyer! Harry: _

I am in a state of shock! I simply cannot believe everything that has happened in two days. I wish against wish that I could be there with you right this very second. What Malfoy has done is unthinkable-- even for being a Malfoy, that was stooping to an unexplored level of seediness. 

How could you not love this girl? 

_I know that Sirius will be all right-- he always has been and always will be. And besides, Harry, even if he's not physically right there with you, his love is. _

Just like me. 

I'm hoping you knew that. 

Write back soon. 

All my love, 

Sophie 

To the great glee of Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter was turning fuschia. 

"_Whoa_! What, did she ask you to _marry_ her or something?" he laughed, peering over Harry's shoulder nosily. 

Harry folded up the letter and slipped it into his satchel. "How about you keep your nose in your kippers, ok mate?" 

"Oh now that's just not fair, I would have let you read it if it were mine!" 

"But it's not yours, so that settles it." 

Harry and Ron bickered all the way up to the second floor for their concentration course_ A Study in Reason. _After everything that Mrs. Figg had told him last night, perhaps it was only fitting that she should teach _A Study in Reason_-- after all, she propbably knew more about the reason behind bad wizards than anyone else! 

While we are on the subject of classes, for Harry and Hermione, every second Sunday was fast becoming their favorite day of the week. They were deeply engrossed in their studies, although they were fast becoming unrelentlessly laborious. The class had started off easily enough, learning the basic _concepts _of Apparition, but it soon evolved into a detailed study in human form and anatomy-- a subject Harry didn't exactly excel in. And, as Warwick pointed out repeatedly, it was _essential_ to master a thorough knowledge of anatomy and human form as this was key to successful apparition. 

But, in all honesty, the _real _reason Harry found himself looking forward to the ministry classes is b excuse it afforded him the opportunity to see Sophie again. She lived about twenty minutes away from the Ministry, so when she heard about their classes, she was insistent that she meet up with them for lunch during their breaks. 

Seeing her once every two weeks was fantastic-- but murderous at the same time. Harry found himself aching for her when they were apart. Missing the touch of her hand on his shoulder, or the warmth of her dimpled smile. Harry's stomach would churn with excitement all throughout class, hardly able to stand the wait until lunchtime. Hermione told him that she thought it was just about the sweetest thing she'd ever seen: Harry turned pink everytime he saw her. 

"That's a good thing," she'd said supportively. "Girls like seeing things like that. I never know if I have that effect on Ron-- he's _always _pink!" 

And then, of course, there was Dudley. 

Harry had asked Professor Warwick if Muggles were allowed into the Ministry. She'd been a bit hesitant but then informed him yes, they were, as there were the occasional mandatory meetings with the Muggle Prime Minister. And when he asked Warwick if she thought his cousin Dudley could join them for lunch she looked _very_ apprehensive. But to his surprise, she let him know that her superiors informed her it would be quite all right since he was a family member. 

Harry asked Dudley to come and have lunch with them on Sundays, and he'd really expected a flat refusal, but to his surprise and delight, Dudley accepted! The Ministry of Magic had a lovely half-timbered restaurant in the Ministry Gardens and since students weren't allowed off the premises, Sophie and Dudley came to visit them. 

Sophie and Dudley looked visibly awed by the Ministry and Harry made the necessary introductions to Professor McGonagall whom, Harry noticed, kept a cold front towards Dudley. 

"Isn't it unbelievable, Dudley? About Mrs. Figg?" 

Dudley had been staring with his mouth open at the restaurant and was pulled to attention. "I finally told Mum." 

"And?" 

"Oh you can imagine how thrilled she was." Dudley smiled. That smile was a ray of sunshine to Harry-it gave him hope that perhaps things were going to return to normal. 

Professor McGonagall sat back in her chair. "Do either of you lads remember her cats?" 

"Who doesn't," said Dudley. 

Harry's mouth fell, remembering all of them: Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws and Tufty! 

"_You were one of them_?" Minerva winked. "It was my duty to check up on Arabella on a regular basis. I'll never forgive Arabella for calling me 'Tufty.' She always laughed at my animagus, saying I made the mangiest looking cat she'd ever seen." She turned to Dudley, "I _certainly_ remember_ you,_ Mr. Dursley." 

Dudley nodded. "Yeah, I've been getting that a lot these days." 

"I was visiting Arabella at Magnolia Crescent one day to find her limping about on crutches because you had apparently knocked her over?" 

Dudley shook his head, "No, she _already _had her crutches! She was crossing the street and _then _I knocked her over." 

"Ah, my mistake. She'd fallen over one of her cats-- Mr. Paws, I think. She was most upset about it because while she lived at Magnolia Crescent she was not permitted to use magic-- couldn't even mend her poor leg." 

"People change, Professor McGonagall," said Sophie proudly, "and Dudley is a _wonderful_ bloke," 

Dudley's smile vanished when she said that. Harry grew alarmed--he could _see _that strange aridness return to Dudley almost immediately. Harry's bright glimmer of hope faded as the conversation continued. Dudley relapsed back into his former habit of not giving Harry any eye contact and focusing his conversation solely on Hermione and Minerva. 

Harry felt defeated. 

Their hour passed much too quickly and they were making their way out of the restaurant and down the main entrance, saying goodbye to Sophie and Dudley. 

Sophie shook hands with Minerva who told her to give her father her regards. 

"I will. Dad was rather reluctant about letting us out on the street-- this place looks like a _nuclear _factory from the outside! Wait till I tell him how beautiful is!" 

"Sophie, first Quidditch match of the season is the day after Halloween. You said you wanted to come to a game this year, didn't you?" 

Sophie clasped her hands together. "_Brilliant!_ How fantastic! Professor McGonagall--" 

"I'll see to it that Professor Dumbledore arranges it for you, Miss Banbury." 

Sophie was thrilled and landed Harry with a bear hug that sent Harry's senses into overload. As she pressed her body close against his, her lips brushed the edge of his ear. 

"_I'll be counting the days."_

Her words played around in his ears, leaving him sweetly intoxicated. 

"Coming home for Christmas, cousin?" 

Dudley's arms were folded and he stood next to Hermione, his face revealing neither happiness nor anger. 

"Of course," Harry answered immediately. "Without a doubt!" 

Dudley nodded, still betraying no emotion. "Right. See you soon, then." 

"See you soon, Dudley." His voice was wistful as he watched Dudley turn and follow Sophie out back onto the main street. 

"Well!" said Professor McGonagall, "I must say, I'm most impressed with the young Dursley! I was certain that with parents as unforgiveably wretched as his, there would be no hope for his turning out as well as he has!" 

Harry nodded and then added, quietly, "Yeah. . . he's become one of my best friends." 

* 

Quidditch practice had been at half past six in the morning as usual, and to call it intense would be putting nicely. Less than a month was left before their first match of the year with Slytherin, and indeed, it was all that seemed to be on Angelina's mind. As well as Harry's: they had lost to Slytherin last year. Gryffindor had _never _been defeated by Slytherin-- the revenge was so real to Harry that he could practically_ taste _it! 

The first few Quidditch practices had certainly taken Ron by surprise. He was aching and sore and looked a total mess. Harry was unceasingly encouraging to Ron, who looked like he was having second thoughts about the whole thing. The truth was the Gryffindor _needed _the talent that Ron had. Harry doubted they'd have a successful season without him! Ron seemed to like that, and suddenly _he _was the one dragging Harry out of bed in the mornings to go to practice! 

Of course, there was another reason why Harry couldn't wait until the big match. Sophie was going to be there. Hedwig arrived in the dorms with the news a fortnight before Halloween, and Harry let out a shout that Gryffindors running up the stairs to see what was wrong with him! They found a giddy Harry Potter lying flat on his back on the bed, reading Sophie's frilly bright purple writing: 

_Harry: _

Great news! 

Dumbledore just sent me an Owl letting me know that everything has been arranged for me to come up and see your match! I couldn't stop squealing-- even when Dad begged me to stop. (Poor Dad, bless him for putting up with me.) I can't help it, I'm just so excited! I'm going to leave from Platform 9 3/4 at six o'clock in the morning and I'll arrive at Hogwarts at two o'clock in the afternoon. He'll have Hagrid waiting at the Platform barrier for me and that's a relief to me because I didn't want to travel alone on the train. 

I'm re-reading that book you sent me, Quidditch Through The Ages. Oh Harry, the author of that book is absolutely fabulous! Do you know if she's written anything else? It's really helping me to get better acquainted with the rules so I won't be completely lost at the game-- I want to be able to follow it closely enough so that I'll know just how badly you'll be beating Slytherin! Too bad I can't be a beater: I'd love to hit that bludger right smack at Malfoy. Or better still: don't you think that he would make a rather nice bludger himself? 

My clock is telling me that it's midnight. It's now officially 15th October and I'm counting the minutes until I can see you again: all 24,480 of them! 

I must get going now-- classes start early tomorrow and I've still to do my homework. (Please don't tell Hermione!) 

Talk to you soon and see you soon! 

All my love, 

Sophie 

* 

As was the custom at Hogwarts on Halloween, classes that day were quite painless. Only Snape gave out exams on the holiday (but he would assign homework on your deathbed, so that didn't matter). The rest of the faculty, however, had learned long bedore that exam taking was useless because the students had only one thing on their minds: the banquet! 

Professor Sinistra had been especially excited about this Halloween in particular because of a most unusual meteor shower that was due to hit at Midnight. She had publicly advertised that all students were welcome to come up to the Astronomy tower to watch. Apparently, Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't the only ones who wanted to see it. The whisper all afternoon amongst the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and even Slytherins was about the shower. 

The banquet, of course, was every bit a decadent as it always was: peppermints, chocolates, truffles, Belgian pralines, jelly beans; tarts of strawberry, orange and meringue; fruit cornucopias with mangos, kiwis, papayas, bananas, oranges, tangerines and pomegranates; enormous roasts of lamb and turkey and dressing and so on and so forth, as far as they eye could see. 

"What time is Sophie getting here tomorrow?" Hermione asked as she cleaned off her second helping of custard. "I'm so excited!" 

"How do you think I feel?" said Harry with laugh. "She'll be here at around three o'clock. We'll still all be in class, so I think she's going to have a late lunch with Professor McGonagall and Hagrid until game-time." 

"And she'll be leaving the next morning?" 

"Yeah. . ." Harry's smile faltered at the thought of her leaving so soon. 

"Why doesn't she stay on campus anyway?" asked Seamus. 

"Oh, well, you know, after her Mum died last year, that left only her and her Dad. Sending her off to school for the entire year would be really hard for him-- he'd have to live without his wife and his daughter. Sophie said that she couldn't possibly leave him alone-- he'd never be able to handle it." 

"Well," said Ginny, "that's understandable! Good choice, her staying at home." 

"Yeah," said Harry, "I was really proud of her." 

(In his innocence, Harry didn't realize the fairly obvious _real_ reason Ginny was happy that Harry's flame wasn't on school grounds. Ron did, however, and he sniggered at her). 

Harry reached forward to pick a particularly succulent-looking pear from the cornucopia, when Nearly Headless Nick appeared from out of the Gryffindor table's turkey roast. He was wearing his signature plumed hat and ruff and was all smiles. 

"Good evening all!" he said loudly--the smile audible in his voice. 

"Hello Nick!" Harry was delighted to see him. "And Happy Bir-- er-- Deathday to you." "_Thank_ you, Mr. Potter," Nick was saying. "And you will never guess what's happened! Oh, it is simply the _best_ Deathday present I've ever had!" He was now hovering above the table, waving a letter in the air. "Listen to this, Harry: 

_To Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington: _

After careful consideration, your request to join the Headless Hunt has been approved. Due to the fact that your head is not completely severed, however, you will not be able to participate in a select few Club events such as the Headless Lacrosse. But you are eligible to aid in officiating these such events. We look forward to seeing you at our Annual Meeting on the 15th of November at the Headless Hunt Social Lodge in Margate. 

Yours Most Sincerely, 

Edgar Hounslow  
President of the Headless Hunt and Director of Membership Services." 

The Gryffindors applauded their House ghost who had longed for this moment since . . . well. . . probably since 1492! 

"Sir Nicholas," said Hermione, "that's_ wonderful _news!" 

"I'm glad they finally came around," said Harry. 

"Actually," said Nicholas, floating high above the table, "Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore was voted out of the Presidency this year! Some scandal to do with fixing the standings in last year's Lacrosse Championship. This new bloke Hounslow- said he didn't see any reason why I _shouldn't_ join!" 

He was drifting up higher and higher until he finally disappeared right through the enchanted ceiling itself. 

Ron was grinning wildly. "Well! He's certainly in high spirits tonight, isn't he!" Ron pounded the table with his fist as he laughed, "Get it? _High spirits_? Get it?" 

The entire Gryffindor table stared at Ron in disbelief. 

"Congratulations Ron," said Harry. "You have just delivered the worst joke in the history of wizardkind." 

There were a surprising number of students from all the Houses who made the long journey up the staircases to the Astronomy Tower that night. Even Draco and friends had decided to grace everyone with their presence. He stood next to the largest window of the cold chamber, arms folded as was his habit and, to complete the Malfoy stance, his nose was upturned. 

"Hey Potter," he said through a sneer, "are you sure you should be up here in the cold night air? Wouldn't want you to catch a cold now, would we? You can't miss the biggest match of the year!" 

Crabbe and Goyle grunted happily. 

"Then again. . . perhaps it would be best. Spare you the shame of losing publicly . . ._ again_." 

Harry could _feel _the rage seethe within Ron who was close next to Harry, and the feeling was quite mutual. The rest of the Gryffindors looked to Harry pleadingly and he stepped forward from the crowd. 

"You only _wish _that, Malfoy. It would spare _you _the humility of _having-your-ass-kicked._" He paused. "_As usual_." 

The Gryffindors laughed at Malfoy-- as did a few of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs (who depended on a Gryffindor victory to secure hope for a win of their own). Ron was smiling brilliantly and winked at Harry as if to say 'well done, mate.' 

Draco pouted and folded his arms again, leaning next to the window. Harry smiled at the realization of how very easy it would be for him to push Malfoy right out that window . . . 

"Not a cloud in the sky," Professor Sinistra was saying gleefully, not even aware of the disturbance. She had been practically hanging out of the largest window and then quickly ran to a desk to examine parchments with maps of constellations printed on them. 

"Yes . . . exactly as I've forseen." 

Harry cringed at that singsong voice and turned to find Professor Trelawney standing behind him. She seemed to acquire more and more jingling, jangling jewelry every year and tonight she was adorned in necklaces of turquoise and was bundled in a matching bright turquoise shawl. Her tarantula eyelashes were grotesquely magnified by her thick spectacles and Harry tried his best not to shudder. 

"Yes Sibyll," said Professor Sinistra dismissively, "of course." 

Ron just couldn't help himself. "Was it very beautiful, Professor Trelawney?" 

"I beg your pardon, Mr Weasley?" 

"Tonight's meteor showers! Were they very beautiful? I mean, you _have _already seen them, haven't you?" 

Harry and Hermione had to do all they could not to burst into laughter. 

Professor Trelaeney scoweled at Ron. "Just because some of us do _possess_ the sight does not mean that we always _choose_ to utilize it. Some things are better left a mystery." She turned up her nose and went to assist Professor Sinistra. 

Seamus nudged Ron. "Aye, like how she can keep her head up under the weight of those glasses." 

The Gryffindors fell into stitches. Lavender, who had always been Trelawney's little disciple, shook her head, "You're horrible, all of you!" 

Professor Sinistra was scurrying about the chamber frantically and finally called the students to the windows. She glanced at the hourglass on the table and then back up into the endless sackloth black sky. 

"Now, you second years have just finished taking your exams about that Constellation Leo and that is believed to be the point from with they radiate, hence the name of the meteor shower: the Leonids. The parent comet for this is called _Tempel-Tuttle_ and it makes an appearance in earths' atmosphere once every thirty-three years. Now, as all you students know, comets melt as they get closer to the sun, and as a result dust is released and surrounds the comet's orbit and when our planet passes close enough to that cloud, well, you will see the result of it in just a few minutes. . ." 

Harry squeezed close against Ron and Hermione to see out of the windows. The night sky looked like an endless blanket of deep blue velvet covered in diamonds. 

"Oy!" came Seamus' voice, "Weasley! Down in front, will yer? A bit of courtesy for us little blokes!" 

The students laughed and then. . . 

It was slow at first, but soon the sky erupted into a dazzling fireworks display. Only they weren't fireworks, they were meteors. Great balls of white, and sometimes red and green, sped across the canvas of the sky-- it looked like the stars were raining down from the heavens! 

The soundtrack for the next hour was a neverending chorus of "ohhhs" and "ahhhs" and "Great Merlin"! It was just after one am before the show finally started loosing its steam, and the sky began to return to its normal state of tranquility. Professor Sinistra was delighted and really, so were the rest of the students. 

The huge crowd of mesmerized students were pushing their way out of the chamber, the chatter generally consisting of words like "brilliant" and "wicked" and "bloody fantastic" and the like. Harry was trailing behind Hermione and Ron, the last of the students to leave, and he found himself slowing in his pace. 

He'd heard something. 

It sounded like crying from the dark corners of the chamber-- a morose whispering. 

"Professor Sinistra?" Harry edged into the darkness with uncertainty. "Is that you?" 

A beam of bright moonlight interrupted the shroud of darkness at the far end of the chamber and Harry could see, not Professor Sinistra, but Professor Trelawney. She sat perfectly still in a chair, silent tears trailing down her face. 

"Professor Trelawney, are you okay?" He came to her side, but was soon taken aback. She was not looking at him--no, she was looking _through_ him. Her gaze was faraway and her face rigid and inhuman. 

Harry became panicked-- he'd seen her this way before! The night she'd made that prediction about Lord Voldemort's servant. A prediction that had actually turned out to be right! 

Harry threw a quick worried look over his shoulder-- everyone had gone. He quickly closed the chamber door and ran to kneel at her side. "Professor? Professor, tell me: what is it you see?" 

The whimpering grew louder and Harry could see her hands were shaking. In a voice otherworldly and certainly not her own, she answered slowly, 

"I see . . . death." 

Harry blanched. "_Death_?" 

"Much death . . . much blood . . . I see. . . red . . . red climbing high into the sky. . ." 

"You see fire?" 

". . . the mark of death is everywhere. . . all around us. . ." 

Harry leaned closer, Professor Trelawney's hands gripping the chair tightly. "Nine times we shall see it . . . nine times shall he strike . . . the ninth will be . . ." 

Her breathing became heavier. She said nothing at first and then her eyes grew wide with horror. She stared at Harry and then put her hands to her mouth. She let out a scream that shattered the dead silence of the room. 

Harry grabbed hold of her hand, his heart thumping wildly. "Professor! It's okay! It's _me_, Harry!" 

But she was hysterical. Her screaming grew louder and she was queezing Harry's hands until they turned pure white. And then, just as suddenly as she'd erupted into her fit, she stopped and body fell limp into Harry's arms. Her spectacles fell and cracked on the ground revealing a face ghostly pale and not breathing. 

For one horrible moment, Harry thought the worst. But then he felt her scant breath against him. Harry picked her up like he would have a baby and burst out of the astronomy tower. 

* 

Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in the hospital, looking over Professor Trelawney as Madame Pomfrey worked. Ron and Hermione had come looking for Harry when they'd realized he wasn't with them and were horrified at the sight of the unconscious Professor in Harry's arms. 

"Will she be all right?" Harry asked. Professor Trelawney looked like an open-eyed corpse. 

Madame Pomfrey wasn't smiling. "She will, yes, but it will take time. She's in shock. What did you say happened?" 

"She . . . she made a prediction." 

Madame Pomfrey paused and looked at Harry as if to say 'you must be joking.' 

"No, I'm serious! She was sitting in a chair and suddenly, this . . . this shadow came over her. . . it was really scary!" 

Pomfrey went back to her vials and potions. "Well, if she _did_ have a vision then it certainly must have been something terrible. I haven't seen a case like this in quite some time." 

"It was awful. She was screaming and shaking--_I_was scared." 

"Well, you've done all you can, Mr. Potter. I'll see to it you're awarded ten points for Gryffindor. I'll see to Sybill from here on-you had best get back to your dorms. Isn't your match against Slytherin tomorrow?" 

"_Today_," said Ron. "It's after one am. Goodnight, Madame Pomfrey." 

The trio left the hospital and trudged back towards Gryffindor tower. 

"Right, so what did she say?" Hermione demanded as they climbed the staircases. 

"Well it was all very cryptic. She kept saying that the mark of death was everywhere. . ." 

"_The dark mark?_" said Ron, looking quite alarmed. "Well, what else could it be? I'm sure that's what she meant. She said that there would be much blood and death and that he would strike nine times." 

"_Nine_?" Ron repeated, "You're _joking_!" 

Harry shook his head solemnly. 

"Nine attacks . . . bloody hell. All of those innocent people. . ." 

"That's _if_ she's right, Ron," said Hermione. "Remember? Everyone knows that she's a fraud. You too, Harry." 

"Hermione," said Harry, "you don't remember about Voldemort's servant?" 

Hermione grew quiet. Harry knew he'd made his point. "Well," she said slowly, "her track record doesn't exactly inspire confidence, right? She's predicted your death every year since you were thirteen." But even Hermione didn't sound convinced as she spoke. 

"Come on," said Ron. "Bloody big day ahead. 'Night, 'Mione." 

"G'night Ron," she said with a kiss on his cheek. "G'night Harry," she said, giving him a tight hug. "You three need your sleep." 

But Harry couldn't sleep. He hardly slept a wink that night. How could he after the dizzying merry-go-round of the past few weeks? Even for Harry Potter, things had been intense. He lay in bed, eyes staring upwards into that odd early morning darkness that so easily plays tricks on the restless mind. 

His thoughts were so vivid and intense it was almost as though his was watching them unfold on the black canvas around him. Sirius-- his beloved Sirius-- the pain that had been in his crystal blue eyes that dreadful day-- eyes that had seen such horror and suffering in their life. In his mind's eye, Sirius changed into Arabella and then there was Sophie. Sophie. His thoughts lingered here the longest, trying desperately to remember every wave of her hair, the softness of her smile, and every tingle that shot through his body whenever her delicate fingers touched him. . . 

And then, without warning, there was Malfoy. 

He felt much the way Arabella had about Riddle: he'd been wrong about him. The more Harry tried to get rid of Malfoy, and think back to Sophie, the more Malfoy lingered in his mind. How defiant he was-- how stubbornly determined to prove Harry wrong. In honesty, Harry dearly wished he had pushed him out of the astronomy tower window! Nothing could possily console Harry other than to kill him with his own bare hands. 

Or perhaps beat him at Quidditch. 

Yes . . . that would be just as good . . . 

Even _better_. . . 


	8. chapter eight Gryffindor Vs Slytherin

**Chapter Eight: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin **

Harry wasn't tired as he dressed early that morning while the dorms still whispered and sighed with sleep. He trekked out and down to the Quidditch Pitch to watch the sun rise in the distance-- the morning sky was a deep, blood red which made the dark rolling hills so defining the landscape, appear to be on fire. How fitting-- a red sunrise. In Wizarding and Muggle worlds alike, such a thing meant death. Or at least, a battle was to be waged. And in this one, Harry had not just Gryffindor to defend, but Sirius' injustice to avenge. 

Harry joined the Gryffindors for breakfast just as most of them were already finishing up. 

"Harry," Ron gushed, "thank goodness! I didn't know what happened to you! Where were you?" 

"Thinking," said Harry dismissively as he sat down, reaching for a slice of toast. 

Ron laughed. "Aye, and I know about who!" 

"Mr. Potter?" 

Harry looked up to find Professor McGonagall standing overtop them. She was dressed in robes of black and deep burgundy-the feather in her had a bright yellow. Gryffindor colors. 

"Hello, Professor." 

"I just wanted to wish all of you luck." She nodded at the rest of the table. "All of my best wishes are with you. Angelina actually wanted to attend today's game, Harry, but she was not able to break her plans. But. . ." Her eyes twinkled and she leaned down so that her whisper could only be heard by Harry. (and of course the burning ears of Ronald Weasley) 

"Miss Banbury is set to arrive in time for the game and I hear she is quite excited about having supper with us tonight." 

Harry's heart started pounding again. 

Professor McGonagall straightened out her stance and, without another word, began her way towards the faculty table. 

There was, of course, the inevitable snigger from Ron. "I certainly hope that's not going to ruin your focus, Harry." 

"Not a chance," said Harry. He'd just spied Draco Malfoy at the other end of the hall. "I'm very focused." 

Nerves were jumpy in the changing rooms. The team was new: Ron, Seamus, Dennis Creevey, Arvid Bourner and Melanie Miggs still looked uncomfortable in their new Quidditch robes-- everyone had a case of first-game jitters. Dennis Creevey had spent several minutes in the bathroom, Seamus looked paler than usual, and Ron was being unearthly quiet. A player's first Quidditch game was_ nerve-wracking_ business! Harry, however, wasn't so much nervous as he was eager to get back into the air. He quite simply couldn't wait. 

He called everyone together and then led the team out from the underground tunnel. "It'll be okay, Ron," said Harry with a hopeful smile as they waited for Madame Hooch's okay to take to their brooms. "I mean it-- you're going to have fun." 

The greenish hue to Ron's face suggested he was more than likely unconvinced by that, but Harry was adamant. "I mean it. Besides. . . you look_ good_ in those colors." 

That cracked the smile that Harry had wanted from Ron. 

"_Mount your brooms_," Madame Hooch shrieked. 

The team obeyed, letting out a deafening chorus of "_FIGHT! FIGHT, GRYFFINDOR_!" and flew out into the air. A tingle ran through Harry as the roar of the students in the stands thundered around him. They were a kaleidoscope of color as he circled the quidditch pitch to take his spot . . face to face with Malfoy. 

Draco's smile was as sinister and sneering as it always was. Madame Hooch was below them, between Dennis and Montague. 

"Keep it clean, kids," she shouted. 

Harry and Malfoy held their gaze. 

_Sorry Madame Hooch. I don't think that's going to happen today._ "You're gonna pay for what you did to Sirius." 

"We'll see about that." 

Madame Hooch blew her whistle and the Quaffle was released up in the air! Lee Jordan was especially spirited as he narrated the play-by-play. 

"And it's Slytherin in possession! Montague passes to Zabini-- Zabini throws for a goal and it's blocked by Lonnegan! _Nice save Lars_!" 

Lars held the Quaffle and threw it to Seamus. Seamus zoomed through the sea of green robes, bearing straight for the Gryffindor goal. The bludger came hurtling at him from behind, but Ron spied it and smacked it as hard as he could. The bludger went soaring high into the air-- _straight for Harry_! Harry ducked, almost falling off his broom. 

"_OY! RON! I'm on YOUR side, you know!" _

"Sorry, mate!" 

Even from thirty feet away, Harry could see Ron blushing. Harry's eyes widened: fluttering happily behind Ron was the Golden Snitch! Without another breath, Harry bolted off for it. The wind raced through his hair, the Snitch still fluttering in place. 

_I'm going to get it! It's going to be mine_ . . . Harry reached-- 

_**BAM!**_

Harry grabbed hold of his broom and held on for dear life, the world around him spinning in circles like a whirlpool. He could hear Lee's voice through the confusion, 

_"FOUL! MALFOY PULLED A BACK-END SWIPE! COME ON, HOOCH, CALL A FOUL! HE BLATANTLY FOULED POTTER! HE PURPOSEFULLY KICKED THE BACK-END OF HIS BROOM--"_ Harry could hear boos filling the stadium and, finally getting a hold on his bearings, looked up to find Malfoy grinning madly. 

"_Oops_," said Draco, raising his hand to his mouth, "sorry! Must've lost my balance." 

Harry bolted off for Malfoy, whose face paled-- he apparently hadn't been expecting such an immediate reaction from Harry. But Harry saw something much more important than Malfoy-- the snitch hovering _right over his head_! The fact that Malfoy was in the way was not important-- Harry was prepared to fly right _through_ him if need be! 

"_THE SNITCH, MALFOY!_" Montague was shouting at the top of his lungs and pointing, "_HE'S GONNA GET THE SNITCH_!" 

By the time Malfoy caught on, the Snitch had already fluttered away and Harry was hot on its pursuit. Harry smiled inwardly and, as he passed Malfoy, he veered towards him and, with all his strength,_ slammed _against Malfoy's broom, whacking the back of it so that Malfoy was thrown completely off course. 

"_HOW DOES IT FEEL_?" Harry yelled back as he continued onward after the Snitch. 

"OH MY-- _GREAT SHOT, HARRY_!" Lee Jordan was practically screaming, "SHOW THAT SLIMY--" 

"_**LEE JORDAN!**_" 

"I'm sorry Professor, but this is WAR!" 

Harry's face was stinging from the fierce cold of the wind as he sped faster and faster. The fluttering blur of gold kept darting up and down, left and right, but Harry was on that snitch like a hawk. 

Harry could hear a rush of wind behind him and he knew it was Malfoy. 

"_You **bastard**_," Malfoy was shouting. "You'll pay for that!" 

Harry braced on his broom, ready for another impact from Malfoy, when to his complete surprise, a woman with huge glasses appeared alongside them. 

Madame Hooch! 

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! Madame Hooch has called a time out to have a chat with the Seekers! If there's an ounce of DECENCY in her, she'll have that Slytherin Seeker grounded--" 

"_I will NOT tell you again, Lee! That's it, move aside! NOW!" _

"OKAY! All right! I'll stop!" 

"THANK you!" "but I'm right and you know it. . ." "LEE!" Harry and Malfoy pulled to a stop. Harry had never seen Madame Hooch look as angry as she did right then. She folded her arms, "Having some difficulties playing by the rules, gentlemen?" 

"Madame Hooch, you saw what Malfoy did to me--" 

"And that gives you the right to do the same to him?" 

Harry said nothing-- how could he? She was perfectly correct. 

"Now, if you two cannot play this game_ by the rules_ like the mature sixteen year olds I _thought_ you were, I will _gladly_ see to it that you are both _grounded_ for the next two games of the season." 

She positively glared at Malfoy, and then looked at Harry with, not just irritation, but disappointment. 

Harry's gaze dropped down below him to where Ron was hovering next to Arvid Bourner. Ron offered a smile and then gave Harry a thumbs-up sign and a wink. 

Harry laughed and Madame Hooch blew her whistle. 

"And they're off again-- it's Miggs to Finnegan, Finnegan goes to score and-- Oh! interception by Bole Veers! Veers to Zabini-- _COME ON, GRYFFINDOR, ZABINI WAS WIDE OPEN_! It's Zabini down the pitch, Finnegan on his tail, Zabini swerves, he shoots and-- _Slytherin scores_! Slytherin takes the lead, Eighty points to Seventy!" 

"Looks like history is about to repeat itself," shouted Draco smugly. 

Harry furrowed his brow. "The future has yet to be written, _Malfoy_." 

"For you it has," he said coldly as an horrifically evil smile crossed his lips, "_and I'm not just talking about Quidditch_." Harry was fully prepared to knock Malfoy off his broom, but they were interrupted by a bludger zooming perilously close to them. Ron wasn't ten feet away and was yelling, "HARRY! _**THE SNITCH! THE SNITCH!!**_" 

Harry and Malfoy tilted their heads back to see the Snitch fluttering high above them. The two rivals eyed each other and then bolted up skyward for the Snitch. The velocity made Harry get a bit lightheaded, but he _couldn't _let that affect him, and he held ever tighter to the broom. He was neck and neck with Malfoy. Just as the Snitch was within reach, it dropped back down below them. 

"_Dammit_," Harry and Draco shouted at the same time and they brought their brooms around and made a dive back down in the direction of the Snitch. It flurried ahead of them, pulling out of the dive and bursting straight ahead into the horizon. Even with his Firebolt, it felt impossible that he could catch up with the snitch! Surely, this was the fastest his broom had ever flown! 

What happened next could only have lasted ten seconds in reality, but it was as though it were all happening in slow motion! The Snitch abruptly stopped and bolted back towards them again. Harry and Malfoy's brooms were going much too fast to be able to turn around and chase after it. Harry knew it. The snitch was soaring back-- it would soon be close enough for him to reach out and grab it-- or was it? 

_Dammit! It's too far away! I'd have to jump to . .. _

Ridiculous, Harry! Don't do it! Don't do it! You jump off your broom, you catch the snitch-- you fall to your death! It's not worth DYING over! 

Why is it that reason vanishes when we are desperate? 

The Snitch was twenty feet away, fifteen feet, ten feet-- he had to act now! 

He mustered up all the strength he possessed and brought his feet up to the seat of his broomstick to balance himself. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems that Potter is. . .I don't know what Potter is doing . . . GREAT MERLIN! IT LOOKS LIKE HE'S GOING TO JUMP!" 

Harry was free-- flying in the air. With his left hand he reached out and the Snitch fell perfectly into the palm of his hand. 

He stretched out his right hand and shouted, "_ACCIO FIREBOLT_!" 

He knew he was falling, but channeled all his focus and strength on his outstretched hand. He'd done it before, he knew he could do it now, and nearly instantaneously, the Firebolt was back in his hand again. 

**"I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH AND -- HOW THE HELL DID HE DO THAT?!? OH, WHO BLOODY CARES! GRYFFINDOR WINS!!"**

Harry's left hand was still glued tight around the buzzing Snitch. He glanced up and saw Malfoy, his face drained of all color, sitting on his stationary broom: it was the most satisfying thing Harry had seen in a long time. 

He finally became aware of everything else around him-- the stands had_ erupted_ into a cacophonous roar of applause and shouting. Harry beamed and rose his hand high in the air, waving the Snitch triumphantly-- it sounded like the stands were going to _explode_ from the sheer intensity of it all! His teammates were waiting for him on the ground as Harry landed his firebolt to and stepped off onto the solid earth once more. The Gryffindors enveloped him, shouting in his ears all at once. 

Ron, who glowed bright red, was grabbing Harry's arms forcefully, shaking him. 

"_ALL RIGHT, Mate! You DID it! That play should go down in bloody history_!" "I don't know how the bloody hell you did that, Harry," said Seamus, beaming brilliantly, "but you _gotta_ teach me that one!" 

"WICKED," Dennis Creevey was gushing, "Colin was right, you _can_ do anything! It looked like you _called_ your broom and it came to you!" 

"Abso-bloody-lutely _brilliant_," said Lars Lonnegan, "I have never seen anything so . . . so . . ." 

"So completely foolish!" 

It was Professor McGonagall who had joined the growing crowd on the Pitch. But even _she_ could keep a straight face. She burst into a smile. "Those Slytherins never knew what hit them, did they!" 

The Gryffindors burst into another raucous cheer and Ron and Seamus bent down and took hold of Harry's legs. 

"What are you-- oh, put me down!" 

But they'd already lifted him up and onto their shoulders and the crowds, just starting to calm down, went positively haywire! Harry was horribly embarrassed by this display, but deep down he couldn't help but admit . . . it was rather fun. The Gryffindors had been joined by the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, all eager to bestow upon Harry their congratulations at putting Slytherin in their place-- _and _to ask how in the _hel_l he pulled off such an incredible feat! 

Of course, Harry couldn't very well tell them the _truth_. He'd learned last year that he was a Free-Hander: a very rare wizarding minority who can, under certain circumstances, cast a complex charm or spell simply on incantation only, _without_ the use of a wand. It had happened last year when Harry's own wand had been taken away by Voldemort, and his own death seemed imminent. Harry had disarmed the Dark Lord himself on incantation only. 

The crowds around him were still celebrating and had launched into a chorus of, "_Har-ry! Har-ry_!" 

_I wish they's stop this nonsense-- the rest of the team are the ones who really deserve this! They're the real heroes, not me . . ._

Then, one of the voices seemed to come out at him from amongst the onslaught. 

"_Harry_!" 

Harry's eyes darted through the crowds and he found precisely who he was looking for. 

"Ron! Dennis! Let me down!" 

It was Sophie! 

From the sea of faces, hers was all Harry could sea-- a beacon amidst the ordinary masses. She was flashing her dimpled smile and her kind, brown eyes were shining. Harry practically _trampled _his other Gryffindors to get to her and, without thinking or caring, he'd swept his arms around her. He'd forgotten that he was dirty and sweaty and smelled positively _acrid_-- he just wanted to be as close to her as possible. 

And when she was reluctant to let him draw away from her, he knew that she felt the same way. 

And that feeling was _immeasurably_ better than catching the golden snitch any day! 

"I can't believe you're really here," he said, wishing the rest of the world would disappear and let them alone. 

"Incredible, Harry! _Incredible_! Hermione and I bit our nails right off!" she held up her fingers as proof. "I'm gonna need bandages!" 

Harry laughed. "Ah, well, you know, I wanted to make sure your first Quidditch game would be one you wouldn't forget." 

"Well you succeeded. I about had a heart attack! More than once!" 

Hermione chuckled. "Yeah-- especailly when Ron almost took your head off with that bludger!" She quickly threw her arms lovingly around Ron's waist, "Sorry love, but it's true!" Ron grimaced. "It was an _honest_ mistake--" 

"Well I should _hope_ it was!" 

"Let him alone, Hermione" said Harry, still not having let go of Sophie, "he was _brilliant_ out there!" 

"HE CHEATED!" The Gryffindors turned their heads curiously to the direction of the angry squeal and found Montague with Blaise Zabini and Malfoy, whining to Madame Hooch. 

"_He cheated_," said Montague again, "He used his wand to summon his broom!" 

Harry stiffened. "I did _no such thing_. I don't even _have_ my wand with me!" 

Madame Hooch looked satisfied and turned her attention back to the Slytherins. "There you have it, Mr. Montague. Potter was not in possession of a wand, therefore he could not possibly have been in violation of any such rule. A rule which, incidentally, does not exist." 

"_Rule number four clearly states_--" 

"Rule number four is a loophole." Madame Hooch looked quite pleased. "The rulebook never directly states that wands are not permitted. It _does_ state that it is illegal for a player to summon the _snitch_ by any sort of spell or enchantment, which leads one to believe that wands are not permitted. I can guarantee there is nothing said about summoning a broom. . ." 

Montague was vehement! "_THAT'S NOT FAIR! YOU ALWAYS SIDE WITH POTTER_--" 

Madame Hooch lost her air of happiness and scoweled. "_Who are you to question my integrity, Mr. Montague_! Might I remind you that I am still making up my mind on whether or not to slap your team with a penalty for blatantly fouling Mr. Potter at the outset of the game!" 

Montague kept silent and the Gryffindors chuckled happily. 

"Come on," said Ron. "let's get dressed for supper-- I'm famished!" 

Professor McGonagall took Sophie with her to escort her to her sleeping quarters, and everyone else made a run for the common room Harry's heart was beating wildly; he felt ill, excited, terrified, and suddenly quite unsure of how he should act or what he should say around her. 

Harry's hands were shaking as he fumbled through his desk drawer, the back of his hair still damp from the shower. Ron, still dressing, was quite surprised by his anxiousness. 

"Calm down, Harry. It's _Sophie_. You don't have to worry about trying to impress her. She'd be impressed if you recited the bloody _alphabet_, all right?" 

"It's just that I get so nervous when I haven't seen her for a long time. . . I just. . ." Ron was laughing at his best friend. "Don't worry, mate," he pulled a brown jumper overhead, "I _still_ get that way with 'Mione." 

Harry smiled, albeit weakly, and slammed his drawer shut, frustrated. "Do you have any cologne? What about the 'Witches Brew' stuff your Mum bought you--" 

Ron laughed. "Too late for that, Harry. Sophie already knows you smell like mandrake manure, no reason to try and cover it over. Now come on, everyone's already downstairs!" 

The Great Hall was alive with the same sort of energy as it had been the night before on Halloween. Harry proudly joined the Gryffindor table, which had a certain Ravenclaw intruder. 

"Oy! Sophie!" Ron was scooting in next to Hermione, "aren't you a Ravenclaw? Shouldn't you be over--" 

Harry jabbed Ron in the stomach. "_Ron_," he said warningly. 

Sophie laughed, "it's all right. I'm a traitor-- they know it. Your sister is having a great time giving me grief about it, Parvati." 

"She's a tyrant when it comes to House Pride," said Parvati Patil. "But she's all bark and no bite. Speaking of bite, have you _tried _that Pudding? It's unbelievable!" 

The polite conversation was muffled to Harry, because he was aware only of the incredible force at his side. How strange: his nervousness calmed the second Sophie had smiled at him. Underneath the table, he felt her soft hand squeeze his tightly and although the mere sight of her was still enough to cause his heart to stop, the touch of her hand reminded him that she was a dear friend -- first and foremost -- and he wished that he could hold her hand in his forever . . . 

"So then why don't you stay on here?" Seamus was asking. 

Harry felt Sophie's hand tense up at the question. She cleared her throat and managed to keep smiling at Seamus. "Well . .. right now isn't a good time for Dad and me. Since Mum died it's been hard, so . . . leaving him for six months wasn't even an option." 

Seamus looked thoroughly embarrassed and the other students were stirring uncomfortably, not knowing how to react to what she'd said. 

She sensed this. "_But_," she said with a hopeful smile, "I_ do_ have good news! Next month I am throwing another Christmas Party on Christmas Eve!" 

The table cheered. 

"Wicked!" said Ron. 

"Oh, Sophie, yours are the best," said Seamus, "the absolute bloody best!" 

Hermione was acting more excited than anyone. "Oh, wouldn't it be fun if. . . Oh! I haven't told you yet! I haven't told _anyone_ yet! Oh! Guess who will be in London that week!" 

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but Hermione couldn't wait. "_Jake Dugan_! Remember? Last year on our class trip in New Orleans? The really nice freckle haired bloke who we all got on with--" 

"OH! Right," said Ron. He paused, "What, you've been writing to him?" 

"Well yeah, occasionally--" 

"How _occasionally_ is that exactly?" Ron looked irritated. 

"_Really_, Ron! Honestly! Anyway, he is going to be in London on holiday with his family and his best friend Dewey." 

"_Brilliant_," said Harry, "they were both so nice!" 

"American wizards," said Sophie thoughtfully. "That would be interesting . . . why don't you tell them that they are more than welcome to come?" 

It had to have been without a doubt, the shortest meal he'd ever had in his life. He felt as though he'd only just sat down and already the students were trickling out of the Great Hall. How he was willing them to come back- so he could sit beside her just a little longer. 

"Ready, Miss Banbury?" 

Professor McGonagall stood behind them, arms folded, waiting expectantly. Harry's stomach plunged: she was going to take her back to her chambers! Sophie's smile faded. She gave Harry a forlorn gaze and then slowly stood up. 

Hermione must have seen the look of disappointment on both Harry and Sophie's faces, because she spoke up. "Oh! Er. . . Professor, Sophie could stay in our dorms for tonight, couldn't she? I mean, I know that she is a Ravenclaw, but it would only be for one night and it being that we rarely get a chance to see her. . ." 

Harry's held his breath. 

Professor McGonagall thought for a moment, but then shook her head. "I'm sorry Miss Granger,but as you said, Miss Banbury is a Ravenclaw. Were she to stay in any dorms on campus it would be in Ravenclaw's, and I am sorry to add that there just isn't the room in the girls dormitories at this time." 

_Damn_. 

"I trust the rest of you will be getting off to bed now as well-- it's nearly eleven. Even a Gryffindor victory as spectacular as ours was doesn't give any of us freedom to wander after hours. _Any_ of us." 

Harry could have sworn that McGonagall had pointed that comment at him. But why? Sneaking around after hours was the furthest thing from his mind. . . well . . . it _had been_ the furthest thing from his mind until she'd mentioned it. . . and now that she _had_ mentioned it 

"This way, Miss Banbury," said McGonagall. 

Hermione hugged Sophie goodbye, then Ron and then Harry. She snuggled her head against him. "I'm going to miss you. . ." 

He let his lips almost brush against her ear as he answered. "Not yet. . . I'll meet you in your chamber at one am." 

He could feel her confusion. "One?" 

"Yes, tonight. Just be waiting for me." 

"How--" 

"Trust me." He pulled away from her. 

She was intrigued and nodded, suddenly looking quite happy. She wordlessly turned and followed McGonagall out of the hall. Harry was smiling and turned to face Ron, his arms folded and brow raised in that teasing I-Know-Something-You-Don't-Know pose. 

"_What_?" said Harry. 

Ron simply stood and smiled, shaking his head. 

"_What_, Ron?" 

When he finally did speak it was only to say the words, "Astronomy Tower." 

"_Sorry_?" 

"The Astronomy Tower," Ron repeated. "You're thinking of a place where you can take her tonight when you go to kidnap her using your cloak and map, aren't you? And I'm _telling_ you, the place you want to go to is the Astronomy Tower. It's very . . . shall we say . . . _atmospheric_." 

Harry couldn't believe it! He had only just come up with that idea himself and here Ron was calling him on it! 

Harry shook his head. "Unbelievable. You know me too well, Ron." 

"It's not that, it's just that you're such an open book." 

The Gryffindor boys dormitories took longer than usual to settle down to sleep, which irritated Harry as he waited in bed, impatiently, wanting to smother Neville with his pillow to keep him from talking. 

And finally . . . the snoring started. 

Harry was still fully clothed underneath his covers and he silently slid off the mattress and crouched on the cold floor, pulling his trunk from under the bed. Deftly unlocking it, he pulled out his beloved invisibility cloak and Marauders Map. 

He tiptoed towards the staircase, but turned around one last time, sensing something behind him. Sure enough, Ronald Weasley was sitting upright in bed, hands folded behind his head, grinning. 

"Behave yourselves." 

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend, threw the cloak over him and disappeared from sight. Harry loved the incredible freedom he felt beneath the cloak and flurried out of the Gryffindor tower. He opened the map and recited those nine magic words: 

"_I solemnly swear I am up to no good_!" The map glowed nad greeted Harry as it always did: PADFOOT, MOONIE, WORMTAIL AND PRONGS PRESENT: THE MARAUDER'S MAP. 

Thre on the map he saw the blinking dot with his name beneath it and then found "Sophie Banbury". Harry bit his lip. _Ouch. This is gonna be a tough one_. Her chamber was directly next to McGonagall's-- in fact, he'd have to enter her room _through _McGonagall's. 

He hurried off the hall and took a shortcut to the fourth floor behind a knight in armor (whom Harry could have sworn cursed at him for disturbing his sleep) and was quickly at the large, foreboding door to Professor McGonagall's quarters. 

"_Alohomora_," Harry whispered and the door slowly creaked open. He crept inside, gently closing the door behind him. He could hear the Professor snoring loudly from beneath her tartan green covers at the far end of the room-- 

_Goodness! McGonagall snores even louder than Ron!_

Sophie's chamber was at then other end of the room and he entered quietly. The chamber was quite compact with no windows and a few flickering candles at the side of her bed for light. The candles illuminated Sophie's small figure-- she was sitting upright in her bed, quilts pulled tightly around her. Everything else was darkness and she looked like a frightened lost little girl. 

"H-Harry? Is that you?" 

Harry removed his cloak and bowed chivalrously. "At your service, melady." 

She was immediately from off her bed and at his side, embracing him tightly. 

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming!" 

"Sorry-- the lads wouldn't go to sleep!" 

"So!" she said eagerly, "where are we going?" 

Harry wrapped his cloak around them. 

Sophie let out an excited giggle. "_Brilliant_!" 

They tiptoed back out of McGonagall's room and out into the hallway again. They fourth floor hallway was flooded with the unusually bright moonlight-- to the annoyance of a number of portraits were stirring grumpily under its light, trying to get their sleep. 

"Wow," she said, "it's so beautiful at night isn't it! I guess this is what you Ron and Hermione do in your spare time? Sneak around school grounds?" 

"Actually, I haven't done this for quite some time. But I thought you might appreciate a tour of the castle." 

Their steps were in perfect timing with each others'-- just like everything else about them. Sophie was laughing, "I've already had two tours today-- Hagrid, then Professor Dumbledore and now you. Although this time, I'm sure I will actually enjoy it." 

Harry led her to the stairs that led up towards the Astronomy Tower. He pulled the cloak from off them and they climbed the steps together. 

"Where are we going?" she said, a bit winded, obviously not used to the climb as Harry was. 

"Sorry, it's the highest tower in the castle." 

"I believe it." 

"But. . ." said Harry, as he helped her off the last step and into the Astronomy Tower chamber, "the climb is well worth it." 

Sophie gasped. 

The moon was being kept company that night by large cumulus clouds, soft and bright beneath the not-quite-full orb. It made for spine-tingling beauty-- the haunting dark blue and gray lovliness of the massive clouds melding with the blackness of the night. 

"Isn't it beautiful?" 

Sophie's skin was pale-- she was drowning in the moonlight, her skin and hair an odd blue-ish silver. She went to the largest window and leaned out. "It's unbelievable, Harry." 

Harry joined her at the window, caught up in its' impressiveness. "I love the way that everything looks so small and simple and. . . uncomplicated from up here." He sighed. "Everything looks like it makes perfect sense. It's how I wish things _really_ were. And then you look closer and start to see how ugly things really are . . ." 

"Well . . ." said Sophie, leaning against the stone wall, ". . . see how far you can see from up here? You can see far ahead-- beyond the immediate. The _entire_ picture. I think it's comforting to see how beautiful the entire picture really is. It makes me realize that the ugly things that may be in our face are really only temporary." 

Harry was awed by her words and couldn't help by gawk. He sensed that this was making her uneasy, so he cleared his throat. 

"I've. . . I've been meaning to ask you. . . how is Dudley?" 

A melancholy shadow crossed her face. "I . . . don't think he's doing so well. I mean, ever since he . . . found out about us he's just been so . . . quiet." She was staring into Harry's eyes. "And _thin_ too, Harry. Oh, it's scary. Like he's sick. . ." 

"Yeah, I noticed that when we had lunch at the Ministry." 

She nodded sadly and looked teary eyed. "I'm doing everything I can to keep our friendship strong, but I know he's only tolerating me." 

"Hey, you told _me_ not to give up, remember?" "I know, and I'm not going to." She turned to Harry, her voice suddenly hushed and her eyes focused on the ground. "do you know . . . that I haven't had a good night's sleep all week because I knew that I was going to see you?" She raised her eyes. "I hate to sound childish, but it's true." 

Surely, she had to her his heart beating! 

"Late at night when I _really_ need to talk to someone. . . I just wish you were with me. Because . . . some days are so . . . so _hard_, Harry." 

She stopped, staring straight ahead into the night, trying to get it out. Harry sat quietly, waiting. 

"I . . . I can hear Dad at night, crying in his room. He never talks about it to me -- about Mum-- and he puts a smile on every morning, but I know that he's suffering." She was trying to calm the shakiness off her voice. "I. . . I _miss_ her so much, Harry." 

Her emotions won over and the tears fell, streaming down her angelic face. She threw her arms around Harry, who pulled her close against him, trying desperately not to do the same thing himself. After all, he had been there the night Mrs. Banbury was killed-- he shared her memories. Sophie felt so delicate and fragile in his embrace and he wished that he had the power to soften that pain and erase those horrible memories that were the reason for the tears now wetting his robe. 

"I know, I know," was all he could say and he stroked her hair softly. Strands of her hair were wet against her face and he cleared them from her eyes. There was an unearthly silence surrounding them-- it felt as though the night was waiting for something. It was holding its breath in anticipation, just as Harry was. 

He'd been aching to do it every time he saw her or even _thought _of her. He went to sleep at night wishing he could relive those soft five seconds earlier that year when they'd shared that quiet kiss. 

This time, as he brought his lips to hers, there wasn't anyone around to interrupt them. 

His eyes were closed tight- something he was sure looked childish and immature, but something he truly could not help. What mattered to him was _keeping_ her that close to him for as long as he could--holding her tightly, tasting and feeling how wonderful she really was. No wands, spells, potions or incantations-the only magic around was the two of them. 

Letting go wasn't an option. Letting go would break this wonderfully real magic. 

And apparently, Sophie had the same idea. She was obviously more experienced than Harry, but was extremely gentle with him, placing her hands about his waist and pulling him closer to her. Harry wasn't even_ thinking _anymore. All he understood was the beauty of now-- this beautiful girl against him, her mouth on his, her hands pressed hard against his chest. 

It was entirely too much for him to bear! Harry was pressed up against the wall, his hunger for her growing with every passing, euphoric second. Her arms were around his neck, her moist mouth on his lips, and for a moment he was certain that he was going to die from the pleasure of the sensation of her delicate fingers deftly tracing their way down torso. 

Sophie's breath was winded, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Oh my-- _Harry_! Where did you learn to _kiss_ like that?" 

Harry laughed softly, loving the feel of her breath so warm on his ear. "I dunno-- instinct, I guess." 

She paused her kissing and gently held up his chin with her fingertips. 

_Oh God, she is just so beautiful. . ._

"Then I 'm the bloody luckiest girl in the world. Girls would _kill _to have a bloke with your kind of instinct!" 

Harry laughed and met her lips again. He didn't feel like he was only a sixteen year old schoolboy-- not with her. He wasn't scared or awkward or "Famous Harry Potter" or anything else. . . he was simply _himself_. 

And what was the most incredible part of all? That was all right with Sophie. _That _was the person she loved and he knew it. 

  



	9. Chapter Nine Yuletide

**Chapter Nine : Yuletide**

Harry struggled against the relentless morning sun that pounded upon his face. He was determined to win against it and kept his eyes shut tight, pulling his covers close overtop his slightly shivering body. It was freezing in the dorms that morning! He sighed happily, reveling in the warmth and softness of the sheets and blankets when _wham!_ The covers were yanked forcefully from him, the cold air of the dorms rushing in on him as though he'd jumped into a freezing lake. 

"Oy! Ron! What're you playin' at?" He sat up with a start, ready to punch Ron right in the jaw. He reached for his glasses and then promptly lowered his fist when he was met with two big smiling brown eyes. 

Sophie was kneeling next to him, laughing. "Well _someone _isn't a morning person!" 

It took him a good couple of moments to understand what was happening. What was Sophie doing in his dorms? But . . . these weren't his dorms . . . it was . . . the astronomy tower? 

"Sophie, what—" 

"We fell asleep last night. And you were shaking from the cold so I decided to give you a little help." 

Harry looked around him and found he was sitting on a virtual sea of fluffy white blankets in the midst of the cold stone chamber. He looked back at her and couldn't help but smile. "Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." 

He was surprised at how pretty she looked sitting there with the early morning sunlight highlighting streaks of gold and cinnamon in her warm brown hair that he hadn't noticed before. Sophie dropped her gaze to the floor—embarrassed by his staring. 

"And. . ." she said, looking like she was fighting back a giggle, "I must admit, you're the first boy I've met who's so. . . comfortable wearing candy-cane socks." 

"Sorry?" Harry's thoughts were interrupted by this remark, and he looked down at his outstretched feet: his left shoe was kicked off revealing his red and white striped socks. 

The blushing came quickly and relentlessly. 

"I. . . don't actually remember where they came from . . ." 

"One of Santa's Helpers, I should think." 

He shook his head and, before he could think twice, he'd ripped his sock off and tossed it at her face. She screeched and fell backwards, pretending to gasp for air. 

"Oh ha-ha, very funny," he said, watching as she hoisted herself up and dramatically threw herself at the tower window, sticking her head out and inhaling deeply. 

"_Can't . . . breathe . . ._" 

"Why you little mad alec," he said, although he was laughing as well, and joined her at the window. The air was fiercely cold, but he didn't mind it—not with her so near to him. 

"What time is it, do you reckon?" she asked, calming down and leaning her weight against him. 

"Hmm. . .still early. Look—Hagrid hasn't even started his morning fire yet." 

"Oh yeah, you're right . . . dear Hagrid. Such a sweet bloke. We had a great time yesterday when I got here. He took me on a tour of the grounds. _Again_." 

"Bless him." 

She laughed. "Yes. . .he's one of the few genuinely kind people that I've ever met." She paused and smiled at him, "_One _of the few." 

Harry shook his head. "Right. Well, you haven't seen my temper." 

"Mmm. I'm sure it's terrifying." 

"You'd be surprised." 

"Oh I think I have a pretty good idea—I mean, throwing dodgy old socks at _this_ hour? I _shudder _to think what's next." 

"You just keep pushing it, and you'll find out soon enough." 

She laughed—loudly this time, and Harry joined her. He was holding her closely and Sophie looked up into his eyes. He held her stare, reveling in it, and then. . . suddenly turned her gaze downward. 

Harry leaned forward, almost certain that he saw something glisten in her eyes. . . 

"Sophie . . . are you crying?" 

"No I just . . ." she sighed. "I hate not knowing _how_ to say something. . ." 

He nodded. "I know what you mean. I'm not the greatest either at, you know, expressing how I feel and all that." 

Sophie nodded. "Yeah— I'm sure eleven years of living in a cupboard can do that to you." 

Harry laughed softly. "Well . . . whatever it is. . . you don't have to say it _now_. We have time. You'll be able to say it when you're ready." 

She nodded and closed her eyes—Harry _definitely _seeing a tear forming, slowly creeping its way down her face. 

"Hey," he said, reaching to her face and wiping it away with his thumb, "are you all right?" 

"I'm fine . . ." she opened her eyes, which were now red and threatening more tears. "I . . . just love you so much and I don't want to see you hurt. . . by me or anyone else." 

He froze. _There was that word . . . love . . ._

He was staring at her, wishing her tears would stop and she would be happy again. 

"I know what you're thinking, I know, how can a sixteen year old girl think she's in love, how silly—" 

"I didn't think—" 

"really, I mean, what do I know about _anything_, least of all love. It's sounds so silly, I know, but . . . I also know how I feel . . ." 

"No," he said, "please don't apologize. . ." he wanted to tell her the same thing. That he loved her too, but . . . it was such a frightening word. "And please don't cry. _No _one is going to hurt me, all right?" 

"But you don't understand, I. . ." 

"That's enough," he said quietly, but forcefully. Enough so that she knew there would be nothing more said on the subject. 

Sophie nodded and wiped her eyes. "Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to get all dramatic on you." 

"You? Dramatic? _Never_." 

She laughed and socked his arm playfully. "Well! Perhaps we'd best start back now? I mean. . . don't you think Professor Sinistra should be coming up pretty soon?" 

"It's a Sunday morning. _No _one in the castle is up this early. Except of course for Snape. But then again, I don't think he ever sleeps anyway." 

Sophie smirked. "Don't reckon we have to worry about _him _in the Astronomy Tower…" she paused dramatically and raised her brows, "Or _do_ we?" 

Harry closed his eyes. "I don't even want to_ begin_ to get that mental image, Sophie." 

She dragged her fingers along the wall and walked slowly towards the other end of the chamber. "Cor, Harry, I hadn't any idea Professor Sinistra was such a pack rat! When I get her class work every week, hers is the most organized and understandable." 

"Well, everyone has their faults." 

She paused and looked back up at him. "That's too true." 

She took a breath as though she wanted going to add something else, but her attention was caught by something in the corner of the room. It was a large wire cage and she inched closer to it, Harry coming to her side, equally as interested in the cage. It housed a slumbering owl-like bird with pure white hair. Harry thought it looked very much like Hedwig until he got closer and saw that it had the long, bright, multicolored tail of a Toucan! 

"Would you look at that," he said, intrigued. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said Sophie. 

"Gorgeous." He reached out to gently feel its fur when its eyes shot open and let out a squawk that surprised Harry and made him stumble backwards. 

"_Sqwak! What're you playin' at_?" 

Harry was slightly stunned by the bird talking back to him, but quickly made his apologies. "Sorry, didn't meant to wake you, I just wanted to see your feathers more closely." 

"_Sqwak! Well** someone** isn't a morning person_!" 

"I didn't mean to be rude, I just . . ." 

"Harry," said Sophie softly, "I think that—" 

"—_Sqwak! You were shaking from the cold so I decided to give you some help_—" 

"—it's a mimic bird," she finished. 

Harry removed his glasses to clean them with his shirtsleeve, wanting a better look at the bird. "Wow. . . I didn't know Sinistra had one of these. Guess it's her pet." 

She laughed, "I bet that you probably watch what you say in her class with someone like this listening to every word!" 

Harry's tried to smile, but couldn't. Had he heard something? A very distant, faint clicking sound. Almost like the sound of heeled shoes on stone. 

The hair on Harry's neck stood up on edge. "Shhh," he said. 

Sophie was trying to read his expression. "What is it? What's wrong?" 

"Get rid of those blankets now!" 

"Why—" 

"Someone's coming!" 

Sophie whipped out her wand and whispered "_Deletius_!" 

The blankets vanished and so did they as Harry wrapped the invisibility cloak about them_ just_ as the chamber door swung open. To Harry's horror in walked a very intense looking Severus Snape, followed closely by Professor Sinistra and Arabella Figg. 

"Now are you happy, Severus? There's no one in here." 

"Professor Sinistra, I will repeat what I said earlier and that is that I _saw_ two figures in the window while I was walking the grounds!" 

"Of _course _you did," said Arabella Figg. "Everyone sees figures in windows here. They're called _ghosts_." 

This didn't sway him. "And one of them most definitely had black hair." 

"You have a very vivid imagination," said an amused Professor Sinistra. 

Arabella laughed, "My dear Mildred. Severus has been accused of many things in his lifetime, but _never_ of possessing an imagination!" 

Harry had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. 

"But seriously," Arabella continued, "even if there were two students in here, why should that matter? It isn't after hours. It's _before_ hours, actually." 

"Precisely. On a Sunday morning, students are never up at this hour. Someone already up here in the tower would be someone who_ spent the night here_." 

"Oh," said Sinistra, "is that what you're worried about? Dumbledore and I have fixed that problem." 

"What problem?" asked Figg. 

Professor Sinistra walked towards the mimic bird's cage and suddenly Harry went from alarmed at the situation to panicked. 

"You see Arabella, for quite some time, the Astronomy Tower had become somewhat of a gathering place for those students who wished to study the finer points of, ah, shall we say, the human anatomy." 

"Oh," she said softly. "I see." 

"Yes. So Professor Dumbledore arranged for a resident. . . informant." She unlatched the birdcage and pulled out the bird. 

"Ahhh," said Snape, a smile curling at his lips. "Very good. A mimic bird." 

"Precisely," she ruffled his fur and the bird cooed happily. "Reginald remembers every human word that has passed by his ears, isn't that right Reggie?" 

"_Sqwak! Severus has been accused of many things in his lifetime, but never of possessing an imagination_." 

Figg and Sinistra laughed. 

Snape remained sour faced. "Charming." 

"Now Reggie, tell us what you've heard this morning. Any news?" 

Sophie squeezed Harry's hand—he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his body. They stared intently at the bird, not breathing, waiting for it to give its judgment. . . 

"_Sqwak! I just love you so much and I don't want to see you hurt by me or anyone else_." 

Harry blanched. 

Snape's eyes gleamed in triumph. "Ha! You see? I told you someone was in here! Who was it, Reggie?" 

"Calm down, Severus, calm down. He needs time." 

Sophie put her lips to Harry's ear and kept her voice as low as possible. "Harry . . . we have to get out of here. . ." 

"I know. . ." 

"_Sqwak! I know what you're thinking, how silly of me to say that I love you. I'm only sixteen, I know, but I also know how I feel . . ._" It was coming. Harry braced for it. 

"_Sqwak! I love you too, Pansy_." 

Pansy? 

Harry and Sophie shared a look of shock. 

Pansy?!? 

Snape looked similarly surprised—he must have surely been expecting Harry's name to come up. 

"_Sqwak! But if Draco ever knew about this, Blaise_!" 

Harry's mouth fell! Pansy Parkinson was two-timing Draco Malfoy with Blaise Zabini! 

"_Sqwak! Don't worry about him! This is about you and me, love!_" 

Severus' pallor was turning into red. "That's enough, Mildred," he said gruffly. 

Professor Sinistra looked thoroughly pleased. "Well, I do hope that answers your question. One of your own house, Severus." 

Snape nodded, visibly consternated. Professor Sinistra placed the bird back in its cage and Harry and Sophie beamed at each other! He was so overcome with relief that he felt like his legs were going to give out from underneath him. 

The Professors made their exit and Harry and Sophie were once again alone in the tower, still remaining perfectly still, amazed at their stroke of good luck. They took the cloak off, not able to speak, and looked at the bird. 

It was staring at them, and then finally he spoke. "_Sqwak_. You two owe me one." 

* 

Safe within the invisibility cloak, Harry hurried towards the Gryffindor wing. He'd seen to Sophie's safe arrival in Professor McGonagall's chambers and scurried along the corridor, wondering what sort of smart-ass remark he was destined to receive from Ron. It was already half past nine and most of the students were already on their way down to breakfast. 

He found an empty common room waiting for him save for Ron and Hermione. They were seated near the common room fire, which sputtered and crackled, and offered a calming backdrop for the twos who were deeply engrossed in a game of wizard's chess. 

Harry removed his invisibility cloak and cleared his throat, announcing his presence. 

Neither of them bothered to look up. 

"Morning sleepyhead," said Ron as a bishop tossed one of Hermione's pawns off the board. 

Harry sighed happily, leaning against the fireplace. "Beautiful morning, isn't it?" 

"It's bloody freezing." 

"Yes, but . . . still. Such beautiful cold." 

"Why are _you _so cheerful today," said Hermione gruffly--she'd just lost a pawn to Ron's bishop. 

Ron sniggered. "It starts with an "S" and ends with an "E". Use your imagination." 

"Harry, tell me that you two didn't go sneaking around the castle after hours last night." 

"Okay, I won't tell you that." He took a seat next to his friends. 

Ron laughed. "He also won't tell you that he spent all last night in the Astronomy Tower." 

Hermione froze. "_What_?" 

Harry glared at Ron. "Thanks, Ron." 

"You _what_?!?" 

"Don't worry, Hermione, we accidentally fell asleep." 

"You went out after hours—" 

"I know, I know, but otherwise I wouldn't have had a chance to see her at all. It was an accident." 

"And you didn't get caught?" 

"Does it look like it?" 

Hermione shook her head. "That's dangerous, Harry." 

"Oh come off it. Like Ron wouldn't have done the same thing for you." 

She stared at Ron. "Would you?" 

"Er . . . your move." 

She gruffly took her queen and moved it. "Sorry, Harry, I guess I'm just a little protective, that's all. I'm glad you two had a nice time—" 

"_CHECK MATE_!" 

Hermione looked on in horror as her queen was knocked off her throne by Ron's knight. 

"_I was distracted Ron_--" 

"Oh yeah, you've been distracted since your _first_ play!" 

They argued, quite vocally, actually, all the way down to the Great Hall. Harry was laughing at them, but was more involved in his own thoughts. Namely, Sophie. 

The Great Hall was barely more than a quarter full since most of the students had finished their breakfasts already. Harry had expected to find the Gryffindors all in impeccable spirits after yesterday's Quidditch triumph, but was surprised to find them all rather subdued. 

The three took their seats, alarm growing with every silent, passing moment. It was the same sort of consuming dread that Harry had felt too much of in recent months. 

_Oh no. Something is wrong. Something has happened . . ._

"Ginny," said Ron slowly, "Ginny, what is it?" 

Ginny was sitting next to Lavender Brown, her face nothing but worry. She wordlessly slid them _The Daily Prophet_. 

"Oh no," said Hermione, "_No_!" 

**DARK MARK STRIKES STRATFORD - MUGGLE KILLED**   
STRATFORD-UPON-AVON- Death Eaters claimed another life yesterday in their ongoing terror streak. This time, the victim was a thirteen-year-old Muggle boy, William Weatherby Jr.; son of warlock William Weatherby, the retired Quidditch star of Chudley Cannon fame. Weatherby Jr., who attended a private Muggle school in Stratford-Upon-Avon, was taking his usual walk to school through the backwoods of the sprawling six acre Weatherby estate Friday morning, when he was apparently accosted by Dark Wizards and killed with the unforgivable Death Curse. The Ministry of Magic was at once aware of the situation and was swift to arrive at the tragic scene, finding the boys' dead body in a clearing. 

Mr. Weatherby and his wife, also a Muggle, were on holiday in the Isle of Wight when they first received what Muggles term "a telephone call" on Mrs. Weatherby's "mobile telephone" from their son's school. The school was inquiring as to why Weatherby Jr. had not attended class that morning--something that had never happened with the boy before. Ministry Wizards appeared soon afterwards to explain the situation to the Weatherbys. 

Mr. Weatherby made this statement late last evening regarding his son's murder: "I can only hope that an end to this horror is brought before anyone else has to suffer as my family and I are." 

Muggle Friends and family of the Weatherby family gathered last night to hold a quiet vigil in William's honor. He will be remembered most for his quiet, pensive nature and for his love of family. There will be two memorial services held this Sunday: one at the Muggle Holy Trinity Church in Stratford-Upon-Avon, and the second will be a Wizarding service held at Willow Vale Mortuary. 

"Bloody hell. _William Weatherby's_ son. The bloody greatest Beater in The Chudley Canon's history! He is the reason that Fred and George and I even fell in love with the game in the first place, and his own son . . . bloody hell." 

Harry couldn't have put it better himself and stared at the horrific words, wishing that not a word of it were true. 

"This can't be happening," said Hermione. "It just _can't_ be!" 

Harry was lost in thought as the poured over the article again and again. _For the fourth time in four months. . ._

"She said nine." 

"What, Harry?" 

"Professor Trelawney-- the other night, remember? She said that they would strike nine times." 

Hermione was enraged. "NINE? Do you realize she's saying that _five_ more people are going to loose their lives? The Ministry can't let that happen! They can't let those innocent people die!" 

Harry couldn't have agreed more, but at this point, it really didn't look like there was much the Ministry could really _do _about it. 

It frustrated Harry to no end. 

Harry knew the names of people behind the madness, but what use was it without proof? Maybe deep down Fudge really _did_ believe Harry, but he wouldn't act on it. 

"I wish Dumbledore was the Minister of Magic," said Ron. "He would have Malfoy in Azkaban along with all of his little friends." 

Harry nodded sadly. His morning had been squashed by the news. And once again, it was because of Voldemort. 

It was always because of Voldemort. 

* 

The week that ensued was a somber one. All of the students were badly shaken by the Muggle boy's murder. It cemented the fact that _no one_ was safe from the destructive hand of Lord Voldemort. 

Harry was suddenly most eager to pay attention in his _Study in Reason_ class. For the little woman she was, Arabella Figg had a fiery voice and when she spoke she was determined to have everyone's attention. 

"Will everyone please take out copy of _A Study in Reason: Why Wizards Go Bad_ - by Sinbad de Mourier." She held up a thick green textbook and the rest of the students pulled out their copies. 

She nodded. "Excellent. I have as of yet not referred to this textbook and thought it was about time we addressed it." She took the book and, to the class' horror, tossed the book in the rubbish bin. 

She folded her arms and stood stoically. "That wastebasket is precisely where such archaic thinking belongs." 

Harry's mouth fell. He turned to Seamus and Neville and they were similarly stunned. Lavender Brown looked mortified. 

"I spent fifteen years of my life amongst Muggles and, as a Slytherin I can hardly believe what I am about to say, but. . . I learned some very valuable lessons from them. Mr. de Mourier's theory that evil wizards turn evil because it is in them since birth is ludicrous. Hatred and violence is not something a child is born with. Those are things a child is taught. The desire to do evil does not develop out of thin air, but there is a _reason _for it-- something Mr. de Mourier's misleading book does not address. 

"There was a famous Muggle teenage girl who lived several decades ago who was a victim of the Muggle world's equivalent to the Wizarding world's dark movement-- something called the _Third Reich._ She said, 'In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death.' Now I ask you: how could she say this about the people who, within weeks of writing those words, would put her to death?" 

Neville Longbottom's hand rose. 

"Because . . . well . . ." he was struggling and everyone waited eagerly for his response. "because if you go through life thinking otherwise, then what's the point of even getting out of bed in the morning?" 

Arabella was quiet for a moment and then beamed. "Mr. Longbottom, please add twenty points to Gryffindor. Now, that poses a very important questions: if this Muggle is right, then _what_ makes a good Wizard go bad?" 

No one answered. 

"I will tell you. There is an incident, or perhaps several, that affects the person in such a way that is causes their heart to change. They feel hurt, they feel violated or injured in some way and whatever it is that caused it, leads to a change deep within. "It" is usually jealousy, or envy, or a severe injustice delivered to them. That seed is planted and then it is watered by a constant dwelling over it, as well as perhaps sympathy and empathy from others who might have that same seed planted in _their_ heart." 

"And of course, this demon weed of the heart is quick to infest and soon is completed covered by it." She paused. "Be warned if you think this sort of thing cannot happen to you. For many evil wizards begin life just as you and I. Beware of your passions!" She was whispering now, "beware of your vanity and your jealousy--they are shackles. They lead to a suffocating imprisonment of your heart." 

Neither Harry nor the rest of the students realized that the class had ended. Usually the students would have had their satchels packed and running for the door, but instead they all sat without making a sound. 

Professor Figg had to drop them a not-so-gentle hint to get out and make way for the next class and the students quietly obliged. Her words were swimming about in Harry's head—so much so he almost didn't notice her calling his name as he passed. 

"Yes you, Harry. Might I have a word?" 

He waved Ron and Hermione on who left hand in hand. 

"Yeah?" 

Mrs. Figg was staring at him with a curiously undecipherable expression. She reached into her robes, and pulled out a black hankie, which she proceeded to unfold, her eyes still not leaving Harry. 

"I wanted to give this to you the other day, but the opportunity just never presented itself." 

Harry gulped when he saw what lay in Arabella's palm: a single yuletide red and white striped sock. _The _sock that he'd chucked at Sophie. Most unmistakably (and unfortunately, incriminatingly so) _his _sock, as the monogram "HP" was embroidered at the top. 

"Found it in the Astronomy tower, as a matter of fact. Thought you'd certainly need it—what with how drafty those dorms can be during the winter. How strange you should loose yours in the _Astronomy_ tower of all places. I know that _I _can't think of any reason why you'd have left a sock behind in such a place. . . can you?" 

_Trapped_. Not knowing what to say or do, he vigorously shook his head 'no' and decided to add 'haven't the faintest' just for good measure. 

Arabella handed him the sock (which he took with slightly trembling hands) and folded her arms. "_Well_, Mr. Potter, do try harder to keep your clothing with you at all times—especially when in the Astronomy Tower. I mean. . . after all, it isn't typically a place where one should misplace their _clothing_. Isn't that right, Harry?" 

"No Professor. I mean, yes Professor, of course you're right. Of course." 

Arabella appeared quite pleased and motioned for the door. "That is all." 

He clumsily thanked her for delivering his sock again and hurried for the door, not daring to look back at her. Then again he didn't have to: he was certain she was still sporting that smile. 

* 

Christmas was in the air. 

Everywhere Harry turned were gentle, welcome reminders that his favorite time of year was nigh. Homework was intensifying as the winter approached--if such a thing were at all possible. And while Harry seriously doubted the chance of him making it through the academic year alive, there _was_ one class that, not only did he enjoy, but also he found relatively easy. 

Apparition classes were going strong. Hermione studied incessantly-- it was excessive even for Hermione! Harry put a lot into the class as well, but he could sense that it irritated Hermione that he was better in class and did not have to do _half_ the work she did. On the last Apparition class before the Christmas holidays, Ariah Warwick took Harry aside privately. 

"Harry, dear, have you given any thought to perhaps taking the Apparition Exam in March?" 

Harry was stunned. "What? But minors aren't allowed to take the test--" 

Ariah winked. "As a rule, yes. But you know how the Ministry is with rules. If an instructor sees the potential in a students, then why not? There is no reason to deny the student if he is able!" 

"But I'm not--" 

"You most certainly _are_, my dear. I would not have mentioned it otherwise. That rule is in place because, well, quite plainly, teenagers do not possess the skills or talent required to perform such a difficult task as apparition. And many wizards _my_ age still are not able to do it." Her eyes were sparkling. "But _you_? Well-- you're rather exceptional, Harry." 

Harry's gaze fell to the floor and he wished she would stop staring at him so. 

"I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to embarrass you." She stood up tall and straightened her robes. "I've just been wanting to tell you that for quite some time." 

"Thank you, Professor," he said quietly, still staring at the floor. 

"Harry?" 

He looked up. 

"If I promise not to embarrass you again, will you consider taking the exam?" 

She was waiting-- hoping, really. And deep down, the idea truly _did _excite Harry. 

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll think about it." 

"That's a bargain. Now, I've kept you long enough. Go on then, get going! And have a Happy Christmas!" 

"You too, Professor." 

* 

The excitement in the hallways during that last week of school was electrifying! Snape had his hands full taking points from the students as they'd all apparently forgotten the rule no magic in the hallways! For there were frequent, surprise bursts of greens and reds-- silly, first year pranks that left the hall stinking of sulfur or turned a Professor's robes bright pink. 

Aside from the fact that Christmas was right around the corner, there were two other reasons for the high spirits. One was that Sophie Banbury had sent invitations to her annual Christmas Bash! There was a mad dash amongst the Gryffindors to get a date for what had become the social event of the season. There seemed to be more Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who were invited this year and Harry had to wonder just how Sophie was planning to fit everyone in their home. 

He was also taken aback by a most unexpected surprise--_ six_ of them, as a matter of fact. 

It started the week that Sophie's invitations arrived. He had just finished showering off after a particularly grueling quidditch practice and was finally starting on his walk back towards school grounds when a waifish, bob-cut blonde came running up behind him. Harry vaguely recognized her as an Hufflepuff fourth year. Her cheeks were flushed and she was somewhat winded from the run, but nevertheless managed to render Harry speechless when she asked him if he had a date for the Banbury Christmas Bash. Harry was able to stammer out a somewhat decent reply, confirming that he did indeed have a partner, and the blonde left, decidedly deflated. 

The offers only became more insistent as the week passed. 

The last straw came on a Wednesday after Care of Magical Creatures with the Ravenclaws. Four different girls had cornered Harry earlier that week to ask him the big question, and this time it was a rather voluptuous black-haired Ravenclaw fifth year that gave Harry's robes the tug at the shoulder. He gave her his rehearsed response ("Oh! I'm so sorry, but I've already made plans") but this time it seemed to fly right over her head. 

"You can cancel them," she said in a serious voice, "I'll wait." 

Harry blinked. "Er-- no, you see, they're plans that I actually _want_ to keep. I'm flattered that you've asked--" 

"Good, then we'll meet at the party or shall I meet at your house first?" 

"N-no, you don't seem to understand, I'm already--" 

"Oh that's all right, we'll just meet at the party. Eight o'clock, right?" 

"Right-- NO!" His patience was waning, "Now listen: It's very kind of you to ask me to the party, but I am _already going with someone_ and I cannot do anything about that. So please--" 

"--Bugger off, eh?" 

Ron and Hermione had caught up with Harry and Ron was staring down the brunette who recoiled under his gaze, her face twisted in astonishment. 

"Ron!" Harry cried. He hadn't wanted to _offend _the girl, but still, Ron didn't have to talk to her that way! The girl, however, got the hint and quickly scurried away. 

The smack on Ron's arm from Hermione showed she didn't like what he'd done either. "Could've been a bit more couth, wouldn't you say, Ronald?" 

Ron shook his head. "Nah. That's the only way to deal with 'em, Harry. Being _nice\_ to girls is the same thing as telling them you're interested. Which, I'm sure, Sophie wouldn't be too happy with." 

Harry was still frowning as they walked briskly through the freezing December air. "I don't _get_ it," said Harry, shaking his head. "I don't even_ know_ these girls. I don't remember even _seeing _them before. Why on_ earth_ would they all want to ask me to go with them to the party." 

Hermione let go of a laugh that caught Harry by surprise. He stopped walking and waited, irritated, as Hermione finished her spell of wheezing. 

"Care to let me in on the joke, Hermione?" 

She sighed. "Harry, Harry, come off it. Don't pretend you don't know--" 

"Know _what_?" 

"Sometimes I wonder about you. Are you _honestly_ this naive?" She cleared her throat and gave him her full attention, crossing her arms. "Haven't you ever been on the second floor during lunch?" 

"The second floor?" 

"Yeah, to the library." 

"Why?" 

"Then you really _don't know _that in the back of the library there is a weekly meeting of the I Love Harry Potter Fan Club?" 

Ron let out a delighted howl of laughter. 

Harry's stomach lurched. "_That's not funny, Hermione_--" 

"I'm not taking the mick! So help me, it's true!" 

Yes, Harry most definitely was feeling ill. "But-- but _why?_" "Because! They're all taken with you, Harry." There was devious glint in her eye, and she was trying to suppress her laughter. "They think you're_ dreamy_--" 

"I've never heard a bigger load of rubbish." 

"-- and valiant and heroic and sweet, oh, they love that part the most--" 

"Just _who_ are _they_?" 

"The Hufflepuffs-- and a fair share of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Not all of 'em first years, either! I've seen a few fifth years in there." 

"Please tell me that my sister has nothing to do with this," said Ron. 

"No, she doesn't. In fact, she thinks the club is absolutely ridiculous." Hermione sniggered. "Some Hufflepuff third year called Lydia Hultzapple and that first year Gryffindor Vera Zaent started it up. I heard that after Halloween the girls cried for the entire lunch period when they heard that you and Sophie Banbury were an item." 

"That's silly." 

"Well, they_ are _Hufflepuffs. Gotta give 'em credit for even asking you out. I wouldn't have thought they had it in 'em!" 

"I'm going to put a _stop _to this--" 

"Oh, come on Harry," said Ron bemusedly. "Let them have their fun. Don't worry!" He squeezed his shoulder supportively. "They'll get over you." 

As for the second reason for the soaring spirits amongst the students? 

Slytherin has been defeated in the crucial pre-holiday game against Ravenclaw-- a defeat that put Slytherin house in the doghouse! One more defeat and they would be out of the running for the quidditch cup! Of course, the Slytherins gave no evidence that this at all phased them. They walked about the campus, upturned noses on them all, eyeing down all the other Houses. 

As the students bustled along towards the potions chamber on the last day of class before winter recess, there was an unexpected eruption of noise. To say that the Gryffindors were rendered speechless when they found Pansy Parkinson and her band of sixth year cronies singing Christmas Carols, is a gross understatement. Granted, they weren't the traditional yuletide carols, to be sure, but the improvised lyrics on the Slytherin's behalf were even more stupefying: 

"Deck the halls with Slyth'rin pride   
_fa la la la la la la la la! _  
Watch the Houses run and hide   
_fa la la la la la la la la! _  
O how joy-ous if the year starts  
_fa la la la la la la la la! _  
With the Mud-bloods out of Hog-warts!   
_fa la la la la la la la la_!" 

The Gryffindors saw through this as a desperate attempt to keep their egos inflated. It had no effect on the Gryffindors who still walked with heads held high-- Ron, Harry and Seamus in particular. They adjourned their final potions class that day, not even caring that Snape had resorted to docking points for "smiling for no reason", and "sloppily crossed t's". (Snape was rather upset about the Slytherin's Quidditch defeat). 

After the Slytherin girls' exhibition, Ron just couldn't help himself. It appeared that he felt obligated to say something to them. And he seemed to know _exactly_ what would wipe the smirks off their faces. "Awww, Malfoy," he said as they entered the corridor from class, "So sorry about your losing to Ravenclaw. Ah, well, better luck next time, eh?" 

Draco's grin soured. "Piss off, _Weasley_!" 

"Tsk, tsk," said Ron, still sniggering. "Don't seem to be in a very yuletide spirit, do you now?" 

Harry and Seamus chuckled much to Malfoy's chagrin. _Is that smoke I see billowing from Draco's ears_? 

"I'm _warning _you, Weasley, if you don't shut your stupid mouth then--" 

"Then _what_," Ron challenged, standing up straight and tall. And of course, Malfoy was always ready to take up a challenge. 

"Care to find out?" he said, whipping out his wand. 

Ron kept his smile. "_Bollocks_. You don't have the balls." 

_Yes, that is *definitely* smoke coming from his ears-- fire too. . ._

"Watch you_ language_, Mr. Weasley! Five points from Gryffindor!" A stern-faced Arabella Figg had appeared behind them and she folded her arms, starting up into Ron's face. "How many times do I have to tell you? I catch you again and I Owl your Mother, is that quite understood?" 

Ron blushed. "Yes, Professor Figg." 

Malfoy cackled, and his noise began its ascent skyward once more. 

Figg raised her brow. "And you! _You_ cost me twenty galleons in a bet that we'd beat Ravenclaw yesterday! Thank your lucky stars that I'm a Slytherin, otherwise I'd be taking _fifty_ points from you!" 

Malfoy reddened and then quickly spun around, hurrying to meet up with his cronies, leaving the Gryffindors smirking. 

"The little creep," murmured Ron. "C'mon, let's go—" 

"Hold on there, Ron." Ginny Weasley was standing stationary behind them sporting a mischievous smile along with Parvati and Lavender. Ginny winked at Harry and Ron. "Watch this." 

She turned to Parvati and Lavender. "Ready girls?" 

The three girls counted down and burst into song at the top of their lungs: 

"_Jingle Bells! Malfoy smells!   
You-Know-Who is gay!   
The Sly-ther-ins  
are slim-ey gits  
Who snog Professor Snape, hey! _

Jingle Bells! Malfoy smells!   
You-Know-Who is gay!   
The Sly-ther-ins  
are slim-ey gits  
Who snog Professor Snape! 

The girls were singing louder, encouraged by the howling laughter and applause from the Gryffindors: 

_Dashing through the snow,   
the Slyth-rins run away  
Because of how they lost  
At Quidditch yesterday! _

Their keeper is a prat  
Their beaters all are lame  
Their seeker is a lying twat  
Whose never once been laid OH—" 

"**WEASLEY! PATIL! BROWN! YOU'LL COME WITH ME THIS INSTANT!**" 

Snape. Was. _Pissed_. 

Harry had never seen Snape move so fast: with a flurry of movement of his robes he had both Ginny and Parvati by their ears and was staring down Lavender. But apparently Snape's anger was nothing compared to the Slytherin's rage. Draco Malfoy was bearing back down the hall, wand outstretched and pointed right at Ginny. 

"_Gennibus Reverita_—" Draco frothed and a great light came bearing at Ginny. 

Her wand was already out and she was shouting "_Perdita Territus_!" 

Their blasts hit their respective opponent simultaneously: Ginny was blown ten feet into the air, landing painfully on her bum on the hard floor and Draco was blown backwards about fifteen feet as though he'd been hit by a canon ball! 

"Bastard!" Ron shouted. His wand was out, and Harry and Hermione pulled theirs—an action matched by the entire Slytherin house. 

"_THAT'S IT_!" Arabella Figg shouted. "_ENOUGH! TEN POINTS FROM EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN THIS HALL I DON'T CARE WHAT HOUSE YOU'RE IN_!" 

Snape was momentarily stunned by Arabella Figg-- as was everyone in the corridor, actually. But he was at once reminded of his task at hand and ushered the three girls off down the corridor. The Gryffindors applauded their heroines as they marched towards their fate, saluting their heroism. 

It cost Gryffindor a record two hundred and twenty-five points, but it was mutually agreed that it was well worth it. 


End file.
